


Paper Pushers Anonymous

by Samsara



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Office, One Night Stands, Sexuality, Slow Burn, partial AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsara/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru. Twenty-five. A natural charmer when it came to scoring himself the company of a lovely lady for the evening.<br/>But on one rare occasion, Oikawa finds himself the company of someone else instead, a young man, and everything he swore he knew about himself is thrown into question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue P.1: Name and Address

**Author's Note:**

> I will absolutely, under no circumstances tolerate Ushijima hate on this fic.  
> Ushioi is actually one of my favorite ships, and IwaOi just narrowly beats it in most cases.  
> But I've been wanting to write this since my friend Audrey put the idea in my head. So this little gem is for her.  
> I intend to update this one every three weeks or so.

_His body arched, aching from the luxurious fullness that flood through his very being. Oikawa's hips rocked as he raised and lowered his weight upon his lover for the evening, enjoying every inch that slid in and drew out of him with every motion. It was so foreign, yet entirely adored by him as he discovered something new about himself. The way this other man, this_ cock _felt inside of him, sending shivers of delight and pangs of pleasure through him. He'd never anticipated that being with another man would allow him to feel so alive. Women had never given Oikawa this kind of satisfaction. This kind of electric, heart-racing thrill that the sensation of another man could. He'd spent so long reassuring himself that men were simply not his cup of tea. But when the man beneath him thrust upwards, causing Oikawa to rake his nails over his partner's chest -- he decided maybe he'd been wrong._

_He couldn't remember the mans name, but it was probably for the best. He would tell himself the following morning that this was a mistake. One night of experimentation with a stranger. One night of drinking the right things to become susceptible to curious whims. One night to make him crave the feeling of having a man inside of him again. Or the rough hands of another male becoming gentle as they squeezed around Oikawa's cock. Or the tongue of a man as he drew Oikawa's lips in closer for a saliva-thick embrace that would leave him breathless._

_His fingers flexed as they scratched upon his lover for the evenings chest, pinching a nipple as he did so to draw out a gasp from the individual. Oikawa knew this almost bloated feeling in his gut well. He was about to come, about to allow a man to push him to the edge (for the third time that night) and release himself upon his stomach. He would deal with the guilt in the morning. In that moment, he simply wanted to come and nothing more._

_“Make me cum,” he begged as he leaned in close and prevented the man from thrusting again within him. Oikawa clenched, squeezing around the cock that remained within him, drawing out a luscious groan from the man. Oikawa’s tone had become languid, dripping with need as he guided the man’s thick but soft hand to his cock. His palm was smooth, and Oikawa could feel his pulse against his shaft as the fingers enclosed around him in devilishly slow strokes. “Do what you gotta. Bury my face in the blankets if you must -- but god.” The man, his head tilting to the side curiously as he teased Oikawa jerked his hips upwards, forcing Oikawa to curve his body in response. His nails scraped over his partners torso before ripping free to clasp at his mouth, the effort wasted as the cry of approval disrupted to the silence. He relaxed, but only briefly as he gazed at his partner, a small trickle of saliva at the corner of his mouth, whispering demurely: “If I could remember it, I’d be screaming your name right about now.”_

 

* * *

Oikawa jolted upright in bed, clutching a blanket to his chest as he looked over the fairly dimly lit room. A clock with crimson blaring letters resting on an oak nightstand to his left revealed it was shortly before seven in the morning. The sun had not yet risen and there was the perfect cover of darkness to slip out of bed. A glance to his right revealed the broad, muscular back of another man, cueing the guilt and embarrassment as it flushed through him. He tore free from the bed, silently but practically panicked. Totally undressed, Oikawa began to rifle through the clothing discarded on the strange bedrooms floor, seeking out what was his from what belonged to the sleeping individual. His heart was already pounding and his stomach fluttering with anxiety as he attempted to depart the room in silence, all his belongings in check. 

As he crept out of the bedroom, he closed the door as quietly as he could manage, avoiding the very likely possibility of a creak or a click. And once free, he at least found himself willing to exhale and check his phone which had still been tucked away in his pants from the night before. With clothing once again in place and shoes returned to his feet, Oikawa examined his phone. Two missed calls, three texts and forty-seven percent battery remaining. The texts were all from his roommate, Kageyama Tobio, who was surprised to find that his boyfriend -- Iwaizumi Hajime -- had returned from a night of drinking and socializing, without his lifelong best friend that night.  
  


_"Where the hell are you?"_

_"Iwaizumi's here but you're not what the hell?"_

_"So. You're getting laid. Have fun. Be safe. Suck a dick for me."_  
  


All of which were mildly offensive to Oikawa, but nevertheless Kageyama's own personal way of showing his concern for his roommate of three years. Oikawa's lips pursed into a line, his brows furrowed along with his brain as a thrum of a headache began to come along, reminding him that he had consumed a lot more alcohol than he was comfortable with. Fingers drummed against the screen of his phone as he sent Kageyama a belated message, assuring him that he was alright and he was coming home now.

Oikawa was familiar with the idea of a walk of shame, after all many ladies in his past likely partook in the activity. He'd often been something of a womanizer and he was no stranger to people slinking off, both ashamed and proud of having been able to climb into bed with him. He stopped taking offense to women leaving before he woke up but this was the first time that he had to be the one vanishing before dawn, and truly the ladies of his past were to be sympathized with.

Slinking outside, some of Oikawa's memories flickered to life, reminding him that he was on the fifth floor of a rather elegant apartment building and he'd have to take the elevator down to the lobby. A message popped up on his phone, from Kageyama, telling Oikawa to find a coffee shop and to text the address and he'd come by to pick him up. No use trying to find public transit at this house. A sigh of relief escaped Oikawa as his eyes closed once he was able to step on to the elevator, riding it down to the lower level.

He sure did have sex with a man, didn't he?

 

Oikawa found himself seated in a coffee shop about a block from the apartment building where the stranger had brought him the night before. The only guest present, he was humiliated to be huddled in the corner of the establishment, knowing full well the workers could sense the vibes of a one-night-stand radiating from him. Who would have ever thought that Oikawa Tooru, playboy extraordinaire, would be the one regrettably leaving another persons apartment for once. With hands pressed to his forehead and a coffee as black as they could brew resting on the table next to his phone, Oikawa tried to play the nights events over in his head again and again but it was nothing but a fuzzy mess. It was like trying to drive in the fog. He could make sense of which direction he was going, but the details were practically indistinguishable from the rest of the road.

"You look like hell." Oikawa glanced up, tearing his gaze free from his phone (now resting at thirty-five percent), finding himself face to face with the sleep-deprived eyes of Kageyama staring down at him. A scowl was woven thickly on his face, clearly unhappy that he had to drive out there to pick up his roommate. "Aren't you starting a new job tomorrow? What sort of 'fresh start' is this supposed to be?"

A fresh start. Oikawa had known for a while he'd been on something of a bender -- at twenty-five he was still out drinking and partying more than he ought to. He was in a position where it wasn't unheard of to still go out and have fun, but it was time for him to get a foot in the door of the working world. A year or so prior he'd announced that he was going to clean himself up (for the most part) and work on becoming a real adult, instead of one who still had his head in the clouds after college ended.

So much for a fresh start after a night like that. Oikawa found himself glaring ahead at Kageyama who decided he would help the still somewhat drunk twenty-something to his feet. "Oh screw you." Oikawa grumbled as he took his coffee into his hands, and his phone slipped into his pocket. Kageyama's eyes rolled as he led Oikawa out to his car in the parking lot, forcing him into the passenger seat before they were on their way.

 

Once at the apartment (after an uneventful car ride, resulting in the aforementioned playboy sleeping the entire drive), Oikawa found himself the proud owner of a hangover and Kageyama the unfortunate victim of his aggressive snapping. With the door opened, he stumbled into the kitchen to find Iwaizumi clad in only boxer shorts pouring his own cup of coffee, in preparation to give Oikawa a lecture. Iwaizumi didn’t look up to make eye contact with Oikawa right away, taking the moment to silently antagonize him with his very presence. Toned, muscular arms folded comfortably over his chest, the cup of coffee clutched within his fist, humming a tuneless melody under his breath. Oikawa knew the act that Iwaizumi was about to pull, it was that of a both disappointed and proud parent. In most cases, Oikawa had learned that Iwaizumi was prone to more violent courses of actions when it came to teaching him a thing or two, but of course: the parental lessons were sometimes the worst. Leaning against the counter top, Oikawa looked up to see the aggressive glower of Iwaizumi, his expression having shifted from a stance of neutrality to its current state. Iwaizumi snorted, looking him dead in the eye from over the edge of his mug. 

"So, you sucked your first dick last night, didn't you?"

"Iwa-chan, I'm in absolutely no mood." Oikawa grumbled as he waved a hand dismissively at the other man, the resting it on his face to apply pressure to his eyes. "You can yell at me all you want after I've gotten some sleep." The darkness that came with his eyes closing was all too welcome, he could easily get some rest and not have to stress out over Iwaizumi preparing to scold him.

Kageyama pushed past Oikawa in an attempt to avoid the confrontation that was moments away from breaking down between his boyfriend and lifetime friend. And thus, Oikawa was forced into opening the eighty-ton eyelids that had slammed shut in favor of getting out of Kageyama’s way. "You two enjoy your spat, I'm going to make the bed since I know Hajime left it undone."

Iwaizumi pulled away from the counter top offering Oikawa the cup of coffee, something of a sympathetic, pitiable look being offered to the hungover pretty-boy. The coffee itself, just like Iwaizumi, was made extra strong to deal with Oikawa’s constant habits of going on benders in order to celebrate. “I’m not here to yell at you, more like congratulate you for realizing what we all already knew. That you’re queer.”

“Am not,” Oikawa grumbled, snatching the mug and taking a rather unappreciative gulp, whining when hellwater poured into his mouth. Perhaps it was due to the coffee or to Oikawa’s own embarrassment, he flushed all the up to his ears, tearing his gaze away from Iwaizumi. “It was one night, what’s it matter?”

“Yeah and it was one night with me and Tobio and now we’re going on three years.” Iwaizumi grunted, noting Oikawa’s air of denial. “If you don’t want the coffee give it back and sleep off your hangover.”

Shoving the mug of coffee back at Iwaizumi, Oikawa rubbed at his eyes again, unbuttoning the top of the previous nights shirt. The stiff, white cotton that had been pressed cleanly the night before was now wrinkled and loosely fitting, a single button having been torn away near the bottom. It was something of an embarrassing sight, and anyone could tell if they had seen Oikawa on the streets, that he had clearly spent the night at a strangers house. Yawning and smacking his lips together to try and wipe off the chalky presence in his mouth, Oikawa pointed threateningly at Iwaizumi. “This is staying between you and Kageyama, right? Like you’re not going to tell anyone else we know, right?” His expression had fallen from that of sour annoyance to faint disdain. Oikawa’s eyes grew tired, and he’d begun to gaze into far off areas of the apartment, worried. “...I’ve got a reputation, and I don’t really want to go around ruining it, Iwa-chan.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so apt to call me Iwa-chan into our twenties it wouldn’t be so much of a big deal, but yeah, I guess.” Iwaizumi replied, snorting at the fact Oikawa had a reputation. He approached the coffee pot to refill what Oikawa had consumed, back turned while the cups contents were replenished. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if it gets out some other way you’re going to have to deal with it on your own. That’s kind of how adulthood and independence work, Tooru.”

“Aren’t I a little old to be having homosexual rumors spread about me?”

“Aren’t you a little old to still be going out partying every damn night?” Came Iwaizumis quick-witted, but logical response, now facing Oikawa once again. “Think about it, if you don’t want gay rumors, don’t keep going out like you’re still a college freshman. You talk about having a reputation, but do you really want it to be that you’re a twenty-something dirt bag who likes to take random women, and now men, home with him? I’m amazed you’ve even got a job at this point. What you do? It’s embarrassing.”

“So’s your dick sticking out of your pants.” Oikawa snorted in retort as he turned away from his long-time friend, hearing an angry bark in response, telling the keeper of the hangover to stop staring. “If I interrupted you and Kageyama having fun, you can go back to it once I’m asleep.

Somehow, Oikawa Tooru, despite his constant partying and inability to get out of his college mentality, had managed (along with several of his classmates) to nab a job at a local advertising firm. Of course, it was only local in the sense it was one of forty branches globally, but it was considered to be the primary one, as the company’s CEO was from nearby. For someone still fresh out of college, it was a guaranteed easy worklife for Oikawa and his colleagues. Provided the avoided getting fired he and his friends would likely be able to stay at the company for their entire life if they so chose. Oikawa had been hired for one of the more internal positions, a technical writer responsible for typing up and editing documents that would be provided to the sales positions where a few of his college friends had ended up. Usually the documents would be on customer relations and etiquette, but never too complex that Oikawa didn’t understand it.

He’d been a communications major in college with a focus on journalism. But after nearly every periodical and newspaper and news station rejected his resume, Oikawa decided it was probably best to seek elsewhere. And when he was able to land his internship, and ultimately his job, as a technical writer, it was more than just a relief. Daijima Enterprises is what it was called, it was a relatively dumb name, according to Oikawa, but with customers globally, he couldn’t really find himself in a position to argue that.

He was due to start Monday morning, and in doing so, he would be saying goodbye to his life of partying in favor of a life more suited to, well, an adult.

 

* * *

With the rest of the day uneventful and night to be a much needed third round of sleep for Oikawa, he was greeted with the unpleasant buzzing of an alarm clock. Blearily, and still partially blanketed in the haze of the prior days hangover, Oikawa rolled over in his bed, batting in frustration at the source of the noise. Despite his lavish personality while out on the town, his bedroom hardly suited him. He couldn’t afford to go out and to have the bedroom to match, so he was left with a full mattress, lacking a real bed frame as it sat upon its box spring. He only owned a single set of sheets, but naturally he lost the top sheet sometime ago, likely when he moved apartments several years earlier. He was left only with two nearly flattened pillows and a shabby blue comforter along with the realization that he was truly a bachelor. 

Sitting up to examine the mess that was his bedroom -- clothing, shoes and garbage alike was scattered upon the floor, reminding Oikawa that he probably needed to vacuum, once he found the vacuum in the mess, that is. -- a bitter chuckle slipped from him. Five thirty in the morning. He read the time with a sigh, his shoulders sinking as the reality dawned upon him. He made a promise to himself to get out of the partying lifestyle and it was time.

The door creaked open and Iwaizumi stuck his head in, much like a doting mother. A tooth brush was sticking out of his mouth. “Good, you’re up. I’m just heading to bed.” He grumbled around the brush, causing Oikawa the slink from the confines of his bed with a grunt. Iwaizumi worked from home, and often was awake until horrific hours with contracting work. He translated for a living for some pharmaceutical company in the United States. So he often had to work bizarre hours while Oikawa either spent the night out or sleeping. Staring dead ahead at Iwaizumi Oikawa did his best to manage a look of utter disdain for him before he slipped out of bed, accidentally stepping on a discarded fast food bag. “God, I’d tell you to clean your room but you’re off to being an adult now, so I guess you already know that.”

“I’m not in the mood, Hajime.” Oikawa snorted, grumbling further as he maneuvered his way around the individual. “Save it for when I’m conscious.” He shoved a hand against Iwaizumi in what was meant to be a friendly, although annoyed gesture, in order to make his way into the bathroom. “Is the hot water working now?”

“Not at all. Either boil some and take a bath or fight through the cold.” Iwaizumi suggested as he headed toward the other bedroom where Kageyama slept in wait for his boyfriend to join him.

Although Oikawa truly enjoyed living with Iwaizumi and Kageyama (despite their jovial spats), he hated where they lived, and it was partly due to his own neglect. The only times their apartment was ever truly clean was around holidays or when family came to visit, which often coincided. Their water was rarely hot, and if they were lucky, they could take a hot shower or bath once a week. It was one reason Oikawa was never opposed to spending the night at one of his lovers places instead, women always seemed to have hot water and clean bathrooms and it was never an eyesore.

Sometimes he wished he could move back home -- hot water was guaranteed, the fridge always had food, there wasn’t the smell of his roommates having sex sinking into the carpet. But shortly after finishing college, Oikawa’s parents had retired and moved to a further part of the prefecture, making a commute rather tedious. So he was left to live on his own, on his own savings and working a handful of part time jobs to pay his share of the rent. It was closer to surviving than it really was living most days, but he suspected that was another reason he went out so often. To compensate for what he lacked.

 

Daijima Enterprises., was a sixteen story building located about twenty-minutes by train for Oikawa. So all things considered, he had a relatively easy commute to the center. It was only a single train, traveling southbound to reach the center of the city where most people on the train shuffled off. It was the metropolitan part of town, filled with young workers from all walks of life, contributing to a variety of fields.

As Oikawa made his way from the station and through the small cluster of people making their way into the building, a finger tapped his shoulder, and the words, “Heard you had your first gay experience.” struck him like an arrow as he looked about to find himself staring at the dangerous smile of Hanamaki Takahiro. A friend from both high school and college, Oikawa was hardly surprised to find that he had managed to get accepted in a position at Daijima.

“God damn it, Hajime.” Oikawa grumbled, pressing his hands to his face. “You said this would remain between us.”

“Us is relative.” A second voice rang out as an arm swung around Oikawa’s shoulders, guiding him instead. A glance past Oikawa’s fingers revealed Matsukawa Issei (rarely seen without Hanamaki) coming up beside him. “Iwaizumi was pretty sure you meant that it would stay among those of us who saw you flirting with the guy.”

Humiliated, and annoyed that his long time friends opted to make this their first conversation as working men. Inhaling, his nose scrunching up as if he caught a whiff of a bad odor, Oikawa reached out and slapped both of his friends upon the back in a firm, nearly domineering motion (a trick he’d learned from Iwaizumi over the years). “If I hear you tell anyone about it, I will make a point of sharing the photos from my twentieth birthday party with your _mothers_.” Oikawa hissed, looking up to offer both of them a friendly (and in this case, threatening) smile. “Do you understand?” Hanamaki had started to respond, but Matsukawa’s wild gesturing at his throat silenced him just as easily as Oikawa’s words had.

The trio stood in the lobby of Daijima a moment, taking the layout in. The main floor was in laid with tiles upon tiles of black and white granite in a checkerboard fashion, with the kanji for Daijima carefully etched into the stone near the main doorways. People shuffled around the lobby, all seeking elevators to their respective floors for whatever work they might be responsible for. In the center of the lobby stood a circular information desk where several receptionists began to file in where telephones were already ringing. Overhead was a large television screen, alternating between a map of the facilities, the news, and information about the building. It was altogether lavish and if the trio was not sure that they had entered an advertising firm, they might have suspected it of being a ritzy hotel.

“Look, it says new hires are to report for orientation on the fifteenth floor, cool. That’s near the top, huh?” Oikawa observed, pointing at the announcement visible on the screen above reception. With that information they shuffled aside, seeking out the elevator that would take them to where they needed to go.

“So,” Matsukawa commented as mirror-like elevator doors opened, allowing a number of people out and the three of them to enter instead. “Are we going to make office small talk already or can we just get back to the fact Oikawa finally slept with a guy.”

Oikawa’s hands quickly covered Matsukawa’s mouth, urgently pressing the door-close button so no one else could join them in their ride up. “Will you be quiet?!” he barked out, “I can’t risk losing my job already!”

“Heh, imagine that. Fired before his first day even starts. Imagine what Iwaizumi’d say if he heard that,” Hanamaki added as he pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, taking them up nearly instantly.

“He’d probably kick me out!” Oikawa blurted, leaning against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest in annoyance. “Don’t even joke about this okay? It’s a sore spot --”

“What? Your ass? Honestly it doesn’t surprise me you took it--”

“Enough!” Oikawa barked, his entire face glowing pink. “You don’t hear me asking you two how Yahaba and Kunimi-chan are enjoying _whatever it is you do_.”

“No, but that’s because you don’t have to,” Hanamaki chuckled as the elevator began to slow. “He takes it like a champ every night --”

“NO MORE!” Oikawa yelped pitifully as the doors opened, alerting an entire meeting room of young adults to their presence. His face glowed, embarrassed from making a scene and the heads that had turned to watch them enter began to busy themselves with phones, or books or whatever they had to bide their time until the orientation started.

The room was filled with what appeared to be thirty or so people, sectioned off by which field everyone was hired for. Hanamaki slipped off to sit with a dozen or so people who were grouped together for sales, while Matsukawa settled down with those associated with bookkeeping, leaving Oikawa to sit down next to two other people in the section for writing. Neither of them looked too alert, so Oikawa took the time to calm himself down after his little outburst with his friends. Once the first minute or so passed, Oikawa had come to realize just why his yelping had been so astonishing. Aside for the steady ticking of a clock, the room had been dead silent and no one was making a peep.

At the front of the room, the clock on the wall chimed signaling eight A.M. and with the chime a door off to the side slid open and a young man (around the age of many of the new hires) stepped in, standing behind a lectern. He stood tall and rather broad, a body clearly toned from years of athletics or working outside (which seemed more likely considering the warm olive of his skin). His hair and eyes were dark but professional, with hair brushed neatly to the side and eyes studious but powerful in nature. He tapped a microphone extending from the lectern, uttering against it in a rich, mellow voice just barely audible in a test to check the audio.

Something in Oikawa’s chest fluttered, and it took him a moment to realize it was his heart.

 

“Good morning,” the gentleman spoke, his tone polite. He gazed down at the lectern, reading something that may have been resting on an index card. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, and I would like to be the first to formally welcome you all to Daijima Enterprises. My father founded this company when I was a child and he hoped I would follow in his stead. Just a year ago, I was able to live up to his dreams for me, as I became head of this branch. My first crucial decision to be made upon taking over was not to cut jobs to earn more for the company, but instead, reach out to universities across the prefecture for new hires to bring a new, but still classic vision to Daijima. And that is why you all are sitting here now --.”

There was something about Ushijima Wakatoshi that Oikawa could not quite place his finger on. He was handsome, even Oikawa couldn’t deny that, and his speech was formal but not overly elegant. Though he was listening (and quite intently, hung on every word), Oikawa could not help but notice how the mans eyes kept lingering on him, occasionally raising a brow. It was a bizarre experience, and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel warm inside every time he met Ushijima’s gaze. For the time being, he silently concluded that what he was feeling could only be described as utter loathing.

As with any orientation, Ushijima introduced the company and its history, a few women entered in handing out booklets and welcome packets to everyone, listing various company protocols. As always, a clause about the organization’s anti-discrimination policy as well as sexual harassment, was included. “While relationships between co-workers is not forbidden at Daijima, we would like to remind you that relationships should be handled with utmost maturity.” Oikawa could hear a small scoff, turning back to make eye contact with Hanamaki who’d covered his mouth in amusement. Of course, it was only when Oikawa turned his attention back to the man who he could now call his new boss, he had noticed that once more: eyes were on him.

After a few more minutes of discussing the handbook, an ice breaker of sorts began. Starting with Ushijima, everyone began to introduce themselves, “I’m Ushijima Wakatoshi, I am twenty-eight. I’ve been with Daijima Enterprises., since I was fourteen, starting with filing paperwork for my father to where I am now. I do live locally, with two dogs and a small vegetable garden. When I’m not here or at home, I can be found visiting local animal sanctuaries and from time to time I’ve been known to frequent bars in search of microbrews to add to a personal collection.”

With the young boss now finished, one by one, the other new hires approached the lectern, introducing themselves. Most were business majors fresh from college (leaving Oikawa to feel somewhat embarrassed about his age, and having procrastinated on getting a job so late), and most of them were quick to share the bare essentials. Readers. Movie watchers. Bike riders. Nothing truly exciting. And then. . .Oikawa’s turn came.

Leaning toward the microphone, he laughed slightly, absentmindedly twirling one of his cowlicks. “Name’s Oikawa Tooru, twenty-five. Communications major, two years out of school. I don’t do much with my time, little bit of athletics, little bit of going out and drinking -- nothing too exciting. Love space. Love aliens. Talk to me about the X-Files sometime, okay?” It was hardly professional, and hardly the right impression he needed to leave. And as he stepped away, he could only watch as his friends still seated near the back mouthed a ‘wow’ at his performance.

It was around noon when the orientation began to wind down, and it had struck Oikawa just how much of an ass he had made himself out to be from his little introduction. He’d come into the meeting embarrassed, and he was about to leave it in just the same mood. He watched as several different workers came into the room, collecting the groups of new hires to guide them off for a tour of their particular part of the building. The small group of writers were left seated, and Oikawa began to wonder if maybe only one of them was actually being hired, and he’d blown his chances.

The room began to empty, people trickling out one by one, and soon, the remaining writers were beginning to appear antsy as well. Soon enough, they and Ushijima were the only ones left behind. “I see you’ve noticed that you’re all that’s left, and the others have all been shown to their floor.” Ushijima commented. “That is because I will be your direct supervisor. Since this is an advertising company, and the three of you are writers, you’ll be responsible for expressing advertising pitches to me through writing, whether it be your own, or in someone else’s words.”

Stepping toward a door on the far left, Ushijima beckoned for the three individuals to follow him. First to her feet was a girl, whom Oikawa recalled was named Yui, who quickly made her way through the seating to the door, leaving Oikawa and the other male writer (he recalled his given name being Morisuke, or something) looked faintly annoyed and followed suit, leaving Oikawa to take up the rear. Ushijima held open the door for the three of them to enter, revealing that they were in a small hallway with three offices (not cubicles) to their left, each one adorned with their names in kanji on a golden placard.

“We get offices?” Yui asked, rather surprised but altogether pleased as she opened the door to her office, looking around at the rich furnishings with some sort of childish glee. “Really? We haven’t even proven ourselves of this yet, sir!”

Ushijima’s face curved into a slight smirk as he opened the office for Morisuke and then for Oikawa. “Daijima is in need of young, skilled writers, and with the portfolios the three of you submitted, we decided it would be best to let you work in more comfortable surroundings than just a cubicle.” Oikawa slipped past the others and took a moment to step inside his office. Caddycorner to his was a heavy oak door with the kanji for Ushijima Wakatoshi engraved on a similar placard to his own, a gold mail slot in the center of it. Glancing back into the hallway, Oikawa called out.

“Is there a senior writing staff, then? This seems like,” he peered into the office again, noting that the rooms all seemed to have their own window as well. “A lot of responsibility for an entry level position.”

“Of course, they’re in the parallel hallway to this on the other side. They’ll be your coaches in regards to what stylistic approaches we take, and you will be meeting with them later today.” Ushijima announced. “But for now, why don’t you get settled in, after all, I’m sure you have phone calls to make.” He chuckled a bit, revealing (at least to Oikawa) that this was his level of a joke. “Ah, actually. Oikawa-san, could I have a word with you alone, perhaps? There was something in your resume I wanted to ask you about.”

Stepping away from Yui (who was already happily jabbering away on the phone with her husband, Daichi-something-or-other) and Morisuke who had found himself at peace in the chair of his office, Oikawa followed after Ushijima who held open the heavy door of his office to allow Oikawa inside.

Comparatively, Ushijima’s office gave off a regal atmosphere. All the furniture inside was dark and refined, similar to the voice and stature of the man whom now employed Oikawa. Bookcases lined the wall, as did a few leather lounge chairs and antique looking coffee tables, decorated with knick knacks and magazines alike. A small gasp slipped free from Oikawa as he felt the weight of Ushijima’s hand press upon his shoulder.

“Your office is lovely,” Oikawa commented, admiring his surroundings.

“Isn’t it?” Ushijima asked as he approached a small table, with a crystal bottle filled with (what Oikawa assumed) to be alcohol, pouring himself a glass. “I figured you might appreciate it.”

“What makes you say that?” Oikawa asked, suddenly parched. “We’ve only just met.”

“Is that so?” Ushijima replied with yet another question taking a sip of his drink before setting it down upon the layer of glass upon his desk. “Hm, I suppose that might make sense, considering what happened.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa asked, brow raised as he found himself clutching at his tie to loosen it. He was in no position to counter him, still partially transfixed on the idea of loathing this man, but less so in a spiteful way, but more along the lines of confusion based loathing. “I’m not following.”

Ushijima sighed, stepping close to Oikawa, leaning in so that Oikawa could note a few bright, circular bruises along his neckline. Hickeys, as he would guess, but that wasn’t really any of Oikawa’s business. He found himself drawing in a breath, nose scrunching as not an odor but a scent caught his attention. It was familiar and. . .arousing. Ushijima stood close to Oikawa, brushing a knuckle over the new hires cheek, giving him something of a chill.

“You said,” Ushijima began the richness of his voice resonating more deeply, and perhaps almost wantonly. “You would be screaming my name if you remembered it, well.” His knuckle drew from Oikawas cheek to beneath his chin to tilt his gaze upwards. “Now you know it.”

In the span of a single sentence, Oikawa’s entire last night out came rushing back to him, revealing one very, clear and absolute fact.

 

He’d had sex with his boss.

 


	2. Prologue P. 2: Title and Header

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that October 16th is Boss's Day?  
> Happy Boss's Day Ushijima B)
> 
> Okay so I wanted to get another short chapter out before I head off to a con (AUSA) in 2 weeks, so there will be a slight delay before the next chapter is out. But from that point on, things are going to become more ~drama filled~ ooooh~! Chapters 1 and 2 are basically the prologue and from here on, we've got a much deeper story to look forward to!
> 
> Thank you so much everyone who has been commenting and supporting me so far! I never expected this fic to take off so smoothly!  
> (Also prologue's part 1 and 2 are unbeta'd and I am seeking someone who would like to beta-edit with me on skype calls/google docs, comment if you're interested!)

_Oikawa glanced up over the rim of his third beer to smile at the man who had taken a seat next to him at the small, high top tabled. His friends from earlier in the night had gone off to sit elsewhere, giving Oikawa the chance to up his flirt game to match the antics of the other man with him. He lifted his hand from the sturdy wood table top to tuck a loose curl of hair back behind his ear, glowing pink from the alcohol in his system._

_“So, this astronomer gets contacted by this alien, right?” Oikawa said, smiling warmly, pleased to be able to share this little story he’d had bouncing around in his head. “And the alien says he will be visiting earth to study humanity. But the astronomer, he never knows if its true until a poor, old man in a wheelchair shows up at his home.”_

_The man in question, was Ushijima Wakatoshi, and unbeknownst to either individual, in thirty-six hours time, Oikawa would be his new employee at Daijima Enterprises. But for this evening, Ushijima was quite content with considering Oikawa an object of his affections. He had a creative and determined head on his shoulders and the way he spoke had lured Ushijima in, curious to know more about the young man who’d begun to wave his hand about gesturing idly at nothing._

_“And so the alien lives as that human for years until he reveals himself as an alien to humanity and tells mankind that they’re not welcome as part of the galactic U.N., because earthlings are so violent and cruel!!!” Oikawa leaned in, grinning wildly, his previously wild hand resting upon the back of Ushijima’s practically clutching it. “And he says to the astronomer ‘you, however. you are welcome to be my ambassador because you always showed me kindness.’ And, well, um.” Oikawa leaned back in his seat, his hand freeing from Ushijima’s (leaving him with something similar to disappointment as it withdrew). Oikawa tapped at his chin idly, gazing toward the ceiling while contemplating his next choice of words. “I haven’t decided if I want the alien to have loved the astronomer or not, but either way it ends with earth realizing that it sucks. What do you think?”_

_“Well, there’s no denying that the alien and the astronomer had a bond in the end.” Ushijima agreed, a finger flexing to try and lure Oikawa’s hand back to his. He looked up from his glass -- a now empty scotch on the rocks -- the edges of his lips curled into a smile. “Even if it was only fleeting.” He watched as Oikawa’s hand rest upon the table, taking a chance to let the edge of his pinky finger brush against the side of Oikawa’s palm to catch his attention. “Maybe the astronomer takes a chance with the alien.”_

_Oikawa rose a brow, noticing their drinks were both empty as he raised both his and Ushijima’s glasses to indicate another round to the bartender. “This one’s’on me.” He slurred. “You got the last one, but. . .” His hand rest down again, seeming to have caught Ushijima’s attempt at luring him in. “What if the alien doesn’t want to get that close to a human, huh? I mean, he’s seen that they’re pretty shitty, right? So what’s in it for him?”_

_“Fun. Adventure.” Ushijma began, leaning in close, as if to issue a challenge to the increasingly more drunk individual to his side. “Something new to discover perhaps? And if he doesn’t enjoy it, I’m sure that the astronomer will let him go, right?”_

_“What makes you so sure?” Oikawa asked, finding himself moving in towards the challenge, a thud of two fresh glasses on the table tearing his gaze free for a moment. “Are you saying you’re an alien?”_

_“Not an alien,” Ushijima said, mentally telling himself to damn it all as he brushed his hand over Oikawa’s, making no indication of wanting to beat around the bush. “But certainly someone who is willing to take a chance with someone risky.”_

_Oikawa found himself gazing into the warm, milky hazel of Ushijima’s eyes, his face warm from the alcohol in his bloodstream. He made no move to push Ushijima’s hand away, instead opting to shift his grasp so he could feel the pulses of their palms pressed together. Pupils darted off to  study a spot on the wall before they focused on Ushijima, analyzing him intently. His lips puckered as he formed the next few words, shaping each syllable in an attempt to sweeten the pot. “So, is that what you see me as?” he asked, the name of the stranger beyond him. “A risk to take? Where is it you want to take me, sir?”_

_“To bed.” Ushijima murmured, raising a hand to brush a knuckle over Oikawa’s cheek, forcing the space between the two of them to reduce to nearly nothing. His lips moved slowly, nearly grazing Oikawa’s as he spoke. “Especially if you call me_ sir _again.”_

* * *

  
Oikawa found himself stepping back to rest his back against the door, Ushijima standing closer to him. He bit at his lip, frowning somewhat as he avoided looking directly at the man. The heat bubbled up in his face, both humiliated and enraged at the events transpiring. There was absolutely no way this was happening, no way that the _man_ he’d been riding was his new boss.  The sensation of his knuckle still alive on his cheeks, causing the Oikawa’s flesh to come alive with rows upon rows of goosebumps.

“Sir,” Oikawa said, starting to fumble about for the doorknob -- only to hear a heavy clicking sound as Ushijima locked the door, obstructing Oikawa’s reach for the exit. “I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“The bruises on your neck, and mine, say otherwise.” Ushijima said, distancing himself from Oikawa, noticing the apparent panic that had washed over the technical writers face. “Door is locked so we can discuss what happened, not to trap you. I’m not that malicious.” Stepping away, Ushijima approached the desk in the far part of the room, bringing his liquor with him, sipping thoughtfully. “I was rather upset to see that you left yesterday morning.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but I have absolutely _no_ idea what you’re talking about.” Oikawa had decided that feigning ignorance was likely his quickest way out of the situation, perhaps Ushijima might realize he’d made a mistake and he’d allow him to leave and he could get on with his life. But while those words slipped away, it dawned on him. Even if Ushijima were to let him leave, Oikawa would now be stuck with the awkward realization that the first man he ever had relations with was his boss. Then what? Did he just quit and look for something new? But what sort of law in the universe was going to allow it to be that easy.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play dumb with me, Oikawa-san.” Ushijima sighed as he sank into an leather-upholstered desk chair, gesturing at one of the equally refined chairs on the opposite side. “We both know what happened the other night, and I think we ought to discuss that, consider that you’re now my employee. I did mention that inter-office relationships aren’t allowed --”

“I don’t want to date you.” Oikawa blurted as he sank down with a heavy thud, his brows furrowed in an annoyed snort, nose crinkling. In response, he watched as Ushijima’s expression fell, genuinely surprised by the comment that came out of his new hire.

“Well, I knew that. Why else would you leave before I woke up. What sort of person leaves before dawn because they’re romantically interested in someone?” He shrugged, setting the glass down on the table. “I wanted to discuss whether you would feel more comfortable being sent to a different branch given the circumstances.”

“I can’t afford to move somewhere else, sir.” Oikawa huffed, eyeing the glass on the desk, craving a drink of the alcoholic variety. “I can barely afford to live with two roommates --”

“Yes, you said the other night. A freelance translator and a med student, correct?” Ushijima tapped on the desk before raising a hand to rest upon his chin.

“I-I’m surprised you remember that, considering I barely remember the other night at all.” Oikawa blurted, feeling himself growing flushed the longer the conversation went on. “But uh, yeah. I can’t afford to live on my own, let alone move and find new roommates.”

“So you’re saying that it would be easier for you to put aside our affair in exchange for this job?” Ushijima asked, retrieving a small pad of paper and a pen, beginning to scrawl something upon it.

“Well, if I have to. It’s gonna be awkward as hell, but -- what’s this?” Oikawa looked down and found himself staring at what appeared to be a phone number, written in clean, intricate writing that suited the man sitting before him.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

Oikawa lifted the paper, folding it and pocketing it into his shirt, glancing off to the side whilst scratching idly at his cheek. “I gotta be honest with you, sir...I’m not, exactly, interested in men. The other night was just, coincidental. You said the right things, got me the right drinks -- you made me into you the other night, and that’s just not me.”

“I’m not asking you on a date, I’d like to take you out as an apology.” Ushijima leaned forward, nearly looming over the desk as he slid the glass toward Oikawa, deciding that he needed the drink much more than he did. “I would like for you to accept my offer, so we can clear up any of this mess.”

Oikawa’s face boiled, still hot from the mere memory of the man across from him, crawling atop him and having his way with him. He couldn’t be sure how much he was glowing at this rate, but the raised brow upon Ushijima’s face indicated he had some suspicion of what was going through Oikawa’s mind. Clutching the drink, Oikawa lifted it and downed its contents rather quickly before returning the glass to the table.

He’d think about it.

* * *

  
_Outside the bar, Oikawa’s fingers clutched around the woolen and brass closures on Ushijima’s coat as he pressed his back against the brick, his mouth currently preoccupied with ensnaring anothers tongue. He’d forgotten how to breathe, but the more Ushijima pressed against him, the less he wanted oxygen. This struggle for breath and dominance at the same time caused something akin to adrenaline (but not quite) to rush through him, reminding him that he’d like to get his pants off sooner rather than later._

_When Ushijima’s mouth freed Oikawa from its grasp, he pressed his forehead to Oikawa’s, his hand brushing the side of his cheek affectionately, before sliding around his waist in a possessive scoop. “Did you want to go to my place?” Ushijima purred against Oikawa’s ear, the smooth, mellowness of his voice filling him like an illicit drug._

_“I’d like that,” Oikawa sighed, staring hazily past his bangs at the side of Ushijima’s head. “S’kinda cold out here anyways.” Ushijima’s hands slipped around his waist, hand resting upon Oikawa’s ass, giving him a playful squeeze. “Seems like you’d like that too, huh?”_

_“Weren’t you saying earlier men don’t usually catch your eye?” Ushijima asked, brushing lips against Oikawa’s cheeks, sinking down to his neck where his teeth scraped over his throat. “Or am I just an exception.”_

_“That’s one way to put it,” Oikawa chuckled, noticing Ushijima’s hand slipping into his back pocket. “Was thinking you might be able to change my mind.”_

* * *

 

Oikawa was allowed to leave Ushijima’s office shortly after their discussion, slipping off into his own office. Retrieving his phone he found himself greeted to several text messages from Kageyama, asking how his first day was going, followed by a text realizing that Oikawa was likely not allowed to use his phone during work hours. Resting his head upon the glass panel of his new desk, Oikawa began typing out a response to Kageyama starting with an eloquent: “ _Guess who my new fucking boss is._ ” Of course, Kageyama being ever the wiser, replied almost instantaneously with “ _It’s the guy you fucked, isn’t it?_ ”

He pressed his forehead on the glass, not wanting to warrant a response to Kageyama who had already figured it out. It was a rather humiliating situation for Oikawa to get himself stuck in, but while it was utterly horrific, a part of him couldn’t help but feel he’d dug himself into this situation. Lifting his head up he unfolded Ushijima’s note to him. His phone was simple, all even numbers for the most part. Over the phone number was an address and the words “Dress nicely” written in formal script. A time was also listed, and as it appeared, Ushijima intended to take Oikawa out that very night.

“ _He wants to take me out._ ” Oikawa texted back to Kageyama, looking up from his phone to see the one girl among the writers ranks standing outside his open door. Blinking a few times, he composed himself, smiling as she waved amicably toward him. Just because she was married didn’t mean Oikawa wasn’t going to hold back putting on the charm. She was cute, dark, auburn hair cut boyishly around her ears, held back by a few gold bobby pins to keep her bangs from falling into her eyes. She was petite and curvy, not carrying too much weight in unpleasant areas -- that’d be an incredibly turn off for Oikawa -- and frankly, her husband was likely a very lucky man.

“Oikawa-san, right?” she greeted, taking the open door as an invitation to enter the office, holding out a delicate, slender hand with a wedding band wrapped around her finger. “Michimiya Yui, oops! I mean Sawamura Yui, sorry, I just got married recently, and I keep forgetting I took my husbands name!”

“A pleasure.” Oikawa replied, shaking her hand politely as she powered. “Hmm, shall I call you Sawamura-chan, or since we’re working in close proximity, perhaps you’ll let me drop the formalities and skip straight to Yui-chan? It’s quite a cute name.” He watched as her entire face brightened up to a pleasant shade of pink, lightly reaching out to punch at Oikawa -- who reacted with a shocked ‘oof!’ sound, surprised to find her hand making contact (and rather roughly).

“Oh, stop! You’re so sweet!” she announced, nearly giggling. “You can call me Yui-chan, of course! Just don’t let my husband hear, okay? He works in HR, and I’d hate to make for work for him!”

“Human Resources, huh?” Oikawa hummed, glancing at the buzzing phone on his desk, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched his bubbly co-worker playfully panic. “I’ll have to remain on my best behavior, now won’t I?”

“You’re such a charmer, I bet your girlfriend’s super lucky --

“Single, actually.”

“I should set you up with some of my friends! I have a bunch--”

Oikawa raised a hand, smiling and shaking his head politely. “My dear, while I’m flattered you’re already eager to set me up, I’m not actually looking at the moment. I’m enjoying my bachelors lifestyle. The dating scene just isn’t for me.” His phone buzzed again, and he found himself looking at an incoming call. “Oh, if you don’t mind, my roommate’s calling, I need to take that.” Resting a hand on her hip, Yui offered Oikawa a wink and excused herself as Oikawa pressed the phone to his ear.

“ _Your boss wants to bang you again, you know._ ”

* * *

  
_The rhythm of his chest was practically visible as Ushijima’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on Oikawa’s shirt, methodically peeling each one free. His hands, warm and inviting pressed against Oikawa’s chest as the shirt rolled off his shoulder. A heavy, nervous breath ripped free from him as he watched Ushijima sit on the edge of his bed, clothed legs spread out, his shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. Oikawa approached him, slipping on to his lap, allowing the man’s hands to run over him. A palm slid down his back and squeezed at his ass again, causing Oikawa to jerk his hips against Ushijima, seeking a burst of friction._

_“I’ve,” Oikawa uttered breathlessly against Ushijima’s ear as the mans teeth sunk into his neck, nibbling and sucking fiercely. “I’ve never been with a man, so...don’t laugh.” With a wet, popping squelch, Ushijima pried his mouth free, staring up at the intoxicated young man on his lap._

_“Why would I laugh, when I’m more interested in seeing how you make me moan?” he asked dreamily as his fingers fumbled with the belt at Oikawa’s hips. “I couldn’t laugh with the way you’ve had your hands on me.”_

_It was an astute observation, as Ushijima had become the welcome, eager recipient of Oikawa’s greedy, exploratory hands as they discovered how another male felt. Perhaps it was because Oikawa had spent years stuffing down his curiosity in favor of normalcy, that he was so quick to study Ushijima’s body, and allow himself to be touched in turn._

_“Then that’s not fair…” Oikawa whispered as he began to unfasten his belt in an attempt to assist Ushijima. “I want your hands on me too.”_

* * *

 

“Man, did you see how that Ushijima guy had his eyes on our precious Tooru during that orientation today? I’ve never seen someone undress someone with their eyes so sloppily --” Hanamaki went on as the trio boarded their train. “Like he might as well have grabbed him and started removing his clothes at the podium!”

“Isn’t he your direct superior? Man, that’s gotta be awkward. I’d say something to him, y’know.” Matsukawa added in. “ _Sir, I know I’m a hot piece of ass, but this ass does not like things being put into it, if you catch my drift._ ”

“Well, you know, he doesn’t frown upon inter-office relationships, so maybe he’s the one that likes stuff in his ass. I mean Yahaba--”

“Can we please talk about something that _doesn’t_ involve dicks and asses? Please?” Oikawa blurted as he took the one seat available, leaving the other two to stand as the train filled in.

“Funny, neither of us said anything about dicks. Just things. You got something on your mind there, Tooru?” Hanamaki snorted a little, jabbing his elbow at Matsukawa. “Something’s telling me that he ain’t over his little queer rendezvous the other night.”

With brows furrowed, Oikawa crooked a finger to get the other two to lean down. He thought a moment about telling them that Ushijima was the same person he’d slept with, but knowing the two of them the entire building would know in a matter of minutes. They had always been quick at networking and Oikawa couldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. So, instead of throwing or confiding in them, he lightly slapped both of them across the face. “How about you shut up?” He asked with a smile as the train jerked along its course. He sank into his seat as Matsukawa and Hanamaki shared a laugh at each others expense.

Oikawa however, could not bring himself to laugh at the predicament. The slip of paper in his pocket with Ushijima’s phone number and address were heavy against his chest. His mind flickered to the night before last, and how Ushijima’s hand pressed protectively against his back, keeping him close as the two of them stumbled from the bar to his nearby apartment. With the events of that evening suddenly clear in his mind again, Oikawa found a couple things very clear. Despite the awkward finale, Ushijima had been very cautious with Oikawa.

_“You’re sure? You did tell me you’re quite sure you’re straight, I don’t want you to feel uneasy if this isn’t something you want.” Ushijima’s hands rest upon Oikawa’s hips, fingers tracing small spirals in his flesh where a small olive branch had been tattooed during his late teen years._

_“I’m sure. I need to figure something out about myself. So. . .Maybe you can help?”_

As Oikawa reflected, gazing out the window while his companions continued to bust each other and play jokes, he found a familiar heat burning in his cheeks. Internally, he began to swear at himself, knowing precisely what this was. He usually swallowed this feeling as quickly as it surfaced, not wanting to let it consume him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized something. What he was feeling toward Ushijima, it wasn’t loathing.

He was infatuated.

_“You’re quite affectionate,” Ushijima purred as he kissed along Oikawa’s stomach as he lifted his hips up in preparation to change position. Oikawa buried his face into Ushijima’s neck, whimpering as he snuggled in close, shuddering as Ushijima’s fingers wriggled inside of him again. “I could tease you for not getting enough love as a child but, you said you sleep around a lot, don’t you?”_

_“Why else would I sleep around,” Oikawa choked out, gasping as his back curved into Ushijima’s touch. “Being loved feels better than sex, but sex is a close second.”_

The train jerked to a hault and Oikawa stood up -- he was getting off early. He couldn’t risk having Matsukawa and Hanamaki hear what he was about to do. Matsukawa began to call after Oikawa as he got up, pointing out that he was too early. “I’m walking from here.” Oikawa said, standing in the door way. “Remember? I’m trying to better myself.”

The train doors closed and it began to pull away as Oikawa began to fumble in his breast pocket for the slip of paper with Ushijima’s phone number. Hesitantly, he began to punch in the sequence of even numbers.

Why were his hands shaking? Why did his mouth feel dry? Why could he feel his heart in his throat?

“ _Ushijima speaking,_ ” the voice on the other end crackled out, leaving Oikawa breathless. Why was he breathless. Why was he nervous? He’d taken some of the most beautiful women in the country to bed, and left them the next morning without blinking. He’d been one of the go-to sources for parties since he was in high school. Why was he nervous? Why was he so terrified of speaking to Ushijima? Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? He couldn’t place it.

“Uh, yes. Ushijima. Sir. This is Oikawa Tooru, I --”

“ _If this is you calling to say you’re going to be leaving, I understand given the circumstances._ ”

“No, no, no!” Oikawa stammered, waving and gesturing wildly, causing the heads of passersby to look at him with concern and raised brows. “That’s not why I’m calling at all. I’m...I’m calling because I wanted to say yes. Yes to your, er, offer. For dinner. Tonight.”

“ _Seven thirty, dress nicely. I’d tell you to wear that tie from the other night but you left it at my place._ ” Ushijima spoke into the phone, tone cool and far more composed than Oikawa. “And _Oikawa_.”

“Yes?”

“ _Although I intend for this dinner to be entirely platonic, should one thing lead to another tonight, I still expect you in tomorrow morning._ ”

 


	3. Sub-Header

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Okay sorry for the late update but I've had a busy few weeks.  
> As some of you may know from Tumblr, I was recently in a car accident. My car was totaled, but I'm doing okay. Just still kind of shaken up from the event.  
> But I've been receiving some absolutely FANTASTIC feedback for this fic. And I've concluded that it is going to include one of my FAVORITE tropes:
> 
> Secret Dating
> 
> We're looking at a 12ish chapter fic, so I hope you guys continue to enjoy the ride.  
> Chapter 3 is also un-beta'd because I am still LOOKING for a beta-reader. So if you are interested, please send me a message here AND IF POSSIBLE on Tumblr as well at semi-eita.  
> I like to think I'm a pretty relaxed person to work with with my editing (except when it comes to Hot Pink). So just let me know!

When Oikawa stumbled back to the apartment no less than twenty minutes later, he found himself arriving at the conclusion that he would not be sharing the news with Iwaizumi and Kageyama. How was he supposed to tell them that he had discovered who had taken his queer virginity, and said individual happened to be his very own boss. On top of that how was he going to be able to tell them that he was going to see the same person for dinner as well? It was a very complex situation and the best way to avoid making it worse was to keep his mouth shut. He’d say something when he was damn well ready.

With the jangling of keys to open his door, Oikawa slipped into the apartment, and quickly wished he could walk right back out. The clear groaning sighs of Kageyama from his and Iwaizumi’s shared bedroom filled the apartment and Oikawa’s ears in such a way that filled him with second-hand embarrassment. Deciding he was in no mood, Oikawa rose his voice, calling out: “Tooru’s home, cease fucking please!”

The response was silence, followed by a rather muffled exchange of “ _Oh shit, Oikawa’s home already._ ” and Iwaizumi stumbling out of the bedroom, hair disheveled and almost entirely undressed. Oikawa’s arms folded across his chest, lips pursed and delivering a gaze that paralleled a disappointed mothers. For added measure, his foot tapped against the floor, just for emphasis.

“While you two were screwing all day, I was actually out earning money, so now that I’m home would you please allow me the chance to relax without the inevitable sounds of fucking?” His tone was sharp, adopted from Iwaizumi himself, the pitch just so to lure Kageyama out from the bedroom, shirt on backwards and bangs swept to the side almost mirroring Oikawa’s “natural” cowlicks. Oikawa slipped into the living room, sinking into the couch as he combed his hand through his hair. “I’m going back out in an hour or so, so you two are free to resume whatever sin you’ve been up to during the day.”

“You’re going out? Again?” Kageyama asked, grabbing himself a glass of milk from the fridge which he proceeded to down in a matter of seconds. “I thought you were giving that sort of crap up. I knew it wouldn’t last. What’re you even doing.”

Oikawa, who had decided to close his eyes in relaxation found them snapping open. He hadn’t thought of a good excuse as to where he was going to be that night. Quick thinking, quick thinking -- got it. “The other technical writers want to meet up for dinner so we can all get to know one another. Nothing big.”

Iwaizumi had himself a laugh as he playfully shoved Kageyama who now wore a rather defeated scowl as he sank down on the couch next to Oikawa. “And who’s going to pick your drunk ass up if you end up partying with them?” he asked, setting the new empty glass of milk on the coffee table.

“I’ll get him tonight, if he needs it.” Iwaizumi laughed as he took the glass away. “What did I say about leaving glasses out. You want another one or can I wash it?”

“Another please.” Kageyama grumbled, ignoring the way Oikawa had taken to putting a pillow over his face to shut out the domesticity.

Iwaizumi tugged the pillow away so he could look down at Oikawa, whose lips were pursed in a fine line as they stared one another down. “You know we’re not getting on your ass because we’re mad right?” He asked lowly. “We’re just sick of you being a goddamn child, so for your sake, I’d hope you’re not going to misbehave.”

Oikawa laughed, sliding away from Iwaizumi’s couch-block as he stood up. “Me? Misbehaving?” He asked, shrugging as he stepped backwards toward the bathroom, having left his work bag on the couch where it would occupy his space until later. “I don’t know what you take me for. I’m an angel.”

“Didn’t realize angels had one night stands with beefy strangers!” Kageyama called after him as Oikawa took that opportunity to close the bathroom door, shutting out his roommate and his mouth.

 

When Oikawa had last looked at the phone, it had read about quarter after five. He would have just enough time to shower and get himself dressed nicely to go out. As he peeled away his clothes from the work day, he came to the realization that he would likely be wearing something similar to his work attire to go out anyways. But he didn’t want to try too hard… Yet, he recalled how Ushijima had requested he dress nicely, so he was in a spot. He’d have to come up with something once he finished bathing.

With the showers water already beating down against the bottom of the tub in a steady, pleasant stream, Oikawa stepped in and instantly felt himself growing relaxed. What a funny turn of the tables. At least funny was a word for it. He couldn’t quite place precisely what the word he was searching for was. It was something, certainly. Oikawa’s eyes shut as he took in the massaging stream of water against his torso, head inclined out of the way to avoid any water splurting into his mouth. He much rathered the idea of something else splurting into his mouth. Just as warm, but much less clean.

His eyes shot open, discovering the shower felt much hotter than he had set the water to. Somehow the image of Ushijima pulling himself out from Oikawa’s mouth with a hefty breath and a thick dribble of _something_ seeping from the corner of his lips, had invaded his mind. And Oikawa was now the proud recipient of an arousal he had not anticipated. He pried his gaze away from his groin, knowing he could easily take care of things since he was alone. He couldn’t quite figure out why the image had come to the forefront of his mind. Had he given Ushijima head the other night? He would’ve remembered, wouldn’t he? Or maybe he really wished he had. He couldn’t place it, but he could place his hands around himself, jerking in slow, cautious motions as he attempted to allow himself the opportunity to think of girls he’d slept with over the years.

But women just weren’t doing it.

Oikawa took a deep breath, admitting silent defeat to himself as he found his grip becoming slick. But in his head it was no longer his grip. It was Ushijima. He knelt upon the floor of the tub, his hand closed around Oikawa’s cock, gazing up at him expression calm but curious.

“ _Not even once? You’ve never let a male friend touch you before?_ ” Oikawa heard Ushijima’s voice say as his hand slid slowly over him in rhythmic, one-two-three motions. Down, up, down -- rinse and repeat.

“No…” Oikawa confessed. “I mean, once...I gave one to Hajime -- ah. When we were in high school. But that’s it.” His head tilted back a little as Ushijima’s hands became feather-light with each brush against his shaft.

“ _I suppose I’ll have to test you sometime._ ” Ushijima uttered as he stood upright, pressing his body against Oikawas as he jerked him off slowly, bringing his own cock to rub against his. “ _Something tells me you’d like that._ ”

The image of Ushijima rubbing their cocks together caused Oikawa to come faster than he anticipated, releasing his load into his palm which he quickly shook off into the drain. His heart was racing and he grasped a hold of the bar of the shower holding up the several bottles of shampoo (empty and full) to keep himself from slipping.

Infatuation was certainly one of the words he was looking for. But there was a more complex emotion tied to it that he couldn’t accurately describe other than…

God. Oikawa pressed his hands to his face, feeling the weight upon his eyes as he let the water pour down over his body. Ushijima was heavy in his mind and the only way he knew to get him out was to see him again.

Months prior, he would have never imagined himself scrubbing away daily filth while letting it sink in that he was becoming overwhelmed with homosexual fantasies of another man. Oikawa Tooru, as far as he believed himself to be, was heterosexual. He was straight for all he could say, but the images in his head of having Ushijima in bed with him again. What was he?  
  
He shook his head and snatched a bar of soap to lather himself up with. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to him. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he was excited, but terrified.

Oikawa had never experienced this sort of conflict before.

 

When Oikawa eventually stumbled out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, peering into the living room to see that Kageyama had fallen asleep on the couch and Iwaizumi was now fully dressed, and straightening up. Briefly the two of them made eye contact, initiating a faint wave from Iwaizumi.

“Hey, Iwa-chan…” Oikawa muttered, pulling a second towel from a linen closet between the bathroom and living space to dry his hair. “When did you know…?”

“Know what?” Iwaizumi replied as he approached Oikawa to avoid yelling across the apartment.

Momentarily, Oikawa smothered his face as he wiped away excess water with the towel before using his fingers to comb and unknot his hair. “...That you liked men.”

“Third year, junior high.” Iwaizumi replied quickly as Oikawa offered him the towel. “When I headbutted you after your temper tantrum during practice. That’s when I knew.”

Oikawa nodded, finding himself smiling faintly, although it was rather melancholy, particularly since he caught the rather saddened expression in Iwaizumis eyes. “Ah, right....And you were attracted to me, weren’t you?” He murmured almost sweetly. “...I’m still sorry, I never realized.”

Iwaizumi shrugged as he tucked the towel under his arm. “It’s in the past. No one ever stays with their first love anyways. Besides. We were fourteen.” He turned his back, waving slightly. “I came to accept pretty quickly that we weren’t meant to be, and even if you did come out queer, we wouldn’t work.” Iwaizumi offered another glance over his shoulder. “...Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

A brief bit of shock struck Oikawa, feeling his cheeks warm up. “I-I wasn’t, I was just --”

“Thinking about that guy again?” Iwaizumi laughed a bit, his voice soft as he combed a hand rather lovingly through Kageyama’s hair as the other male slept comfortably on the couch. Iwaizumi stepped away and retrieved a blanket draped over one of the living room chairs and spread it across the sleeping individual. “Got yourself a crush?”

Oikawa’s shoulders formed into a loose shrug as his fingers finished combing through his hair. “Not sure, but I can’t stop thinking about him…” He confessed rather sheepishly, seeming to lure Iwaizumi back over to talk to him. “...I’m a little embarrassed still, I suppose.”

“There’s nothing wrong with experimenting if you think you may actually like men.” Iwaizumi reassured him with the utmost amount of confidence, clasping a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder with a little smirk. “Hell, if you ask me or Tobio, we might let you try things with us. Might. Don’t get too excited, and don’t come to us every time you want head --”

Oikawa’s face glowed and his cheeks puffed out in something of an irritated pout as he shook himself free from Iwaizumi’s hand. “Excuse you?!” he nearly yelped at his roommate. “That is _not_ what I was trying to get at at all!” Iwaizumi turned away again and made his way back into the living room, chuckling to himself, allowing Oikawa to steep in his annoyance.

* * *

  
What Oikawa opted to wear wound up being one of his more social dress shirts -- one often reserved for clubbing. Dark burgundy with an almost satin-like sheen to it, worn with a black, semi-relaxed blazer and casual dress slacks. He opted against wearing a tie with the outfit since it seemed a little lavish. And if he got the right impression from Ushijima, he was likely going to bring back the tie he’d forgotten at his place for him to wear. If he needed it.

Oikawa managed to leave his place at approximately quarter to seven, giving him forty-five minutes to get to the address given to him. Ushijima, kindly enough, had given Oikawa the train stop he had to get off at, when he’d written down is number. For the duration of the train ride, he spent his time fidgeting wondering if he should have left his phone and wallet at home, but ultimately, he concluded it was the best bet.

When he finally stepped off the plan, he wandered only for a few minutes or so until he stumbled upon the location. Nearly instantly, upon looking at the decor from the outside, he felt under dressed. That tie would have been particularly nice to have with him right about them. The time was seven-twenty, and he assumed it was safe enough to walk inside. It was a rather elegant place, the lighting dim, as was customary with these sort of restaurants, and the lobby with the hosting podium was warmly decorated. Leather seats sat against the wall with a coat room off to the side. The hostess quirked a brow as Oikawa walked in, as if to silently judge his attire. Embarrassed, particularly because he was never the one to under dress, Oikawa flushed and crammed his hands in his pockets nearly apologetically as he approached the woman.

“A-Ah,” He’d forgotten how to converse with girls, and with this particular young woman, with short, cropped and neatly styled blonde hair, Oikawa found himself more flustered than planned. “I am at Niiyama, yes? I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

The girl scowled just slightly before brushing it off, looking down at her reservation list. “Do you have a name the table would be under?”

Surprised Oikawa waved his hands a bit, faintly sheepish. “O-oh, I don’t think there’s a reservation --”

“Niiyama doesn’t have tables open to the public during the week. We work on a reservation only basis.” She looked up from her list again. “If you don’t have a name the table is under, you’ll have to leave.”

Oikawa stammered a bit, looking around, almost humiliated that the situation was occurring. He didn’t want to admit he was meeting a man. He didn’t want to spill to this lovely young woman he was _on a date_ with a guy. It was a horrific image to him and the longer he stalled, the more he felt himself getting nervous and he couldn’t handle the twisting in his gut.

“Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi, I have a reservation for two.”

The warm, mellow voice of Ushijima filled Oikawa’s and suddenly panic had slipped away from him. He was at ease and the young woman managed a smile finally as she lifted two menus, glancing at both men. She didn’t seem phased by the idea of two men and so she spoke with a friendly tone, “Right this way, but sir, could you please inform your company that ties are required --” Ushijima’s hand rest upon Oikawa’s shoulder as he brought out a slim box from within his jacket to offer Oikawa.

“He’s all set, if you don’t mind giving us a minute.”

The hostess stepped to her podium again and Ushijima guided Oikawa off to the side where he opened the thin box. Within the box was Oikawa’s tie from the other evening, a scent wafting from it that made it apparent that it had been freshly cleaned. “I had it dry cleaned. It was rather wrinkled from sitting on my floor.” Ushijima uttered as he removed the tie from the box and casually looped it around Oikawa’s neck. Slowly, and practically delicately, Ushijima began to fold and loop the fabric over itself until it formed into a full windsor knot. Humming softly, Ushijima slid the knot up toward Oikawa’s throat, his knuckles brushing against the sateen of his shirt, leaving him with the faintest of chills.

Oikawa stood there, flushed as Ushijima’s deft hands brushed against his skin, avoiding making direct eye contact with him. He could tell it was a deliberate action, leaving Oikawa with goosebumps, and cheeks warm from anticipation. “You didn’t say I needed a tie.”

“I said to dress nicely...which aside for the tie, you look very charming.” Ushijima spoke softly as he withdrew his hand finally, leaving the faintest of tingles upon Oikawa’s flesh, even beneath the layers of fabric. He reached up, scratching at his cheek, still avoiding meeting the warm gaze of the other man.

“Th-thank you,” he murmured as Ushijima smiled, nearly laughing at the bashful visage that Oikawa wore. He reached out, slipping a hand against the base of Oikawa’s back, guiding him back to the podium. A charming smile was worn upon his lips as he smiled at the hostess announcing they were ready now.

Ushijima was dressed impeccably. Even nicer than his work attire. A dark, umber dress shirt worn with a maroon tie, with a fitted and tailored jacket worn over, with slacks in a matching color. He clearly knew how to dress for the occasion and the glimmer of his polished shoes drove the point home. Oikawa felt horribly peasant-like next to him, but his words reassured him. He looked nice. That’s what mattered.

They were directed to a table in a secluded part of a dining room, which seemed to be far more packed than Oikawa realized. The dining area, which consisted of about twenty tables had around twelve or so filled with guests, and the table where they were seated closer to the corner and further away from the others. The hostess, smiling brought both of them water and explained the evenings specials before leaving them be.

“I’m pleased you actually arrived,” Ushijima said softly as he slid into a booth against the wall, lined with dark, intricately carved wood panels to close them off from the other nearby diners. “I was expecting your little call to be something of a prank. It’s nice to know these dinner reservations weren’t going to waste.”

Oikawa lifted the glass of water -- he was thirsty after his ride there -- to his lips, a brow raised as he took a sip. “You already had reservations? You didn’t plan this because I called?”

Ushijima’s lips were stuck in a perpetual smirk. “Truth be told, I have a reservation made every week. I usually have some sort of dinner conference or meeting to attend each week. So I like to keep a table on reserve here for just such an occasion.” He took a tip of his water as well, eyes seeming to be totally focused on Oikawa as he unfolded a napkin on his lap and began to read over the menu, partially trying to avoid looking at Ushijima head on just yet.

“Uh, that makes sense, I suppose…” Oikawa murmured scanning the menu. “What do you recommend…? It all looks pretty fancy. Like American fancy. I’m not sure what some of this is. What’s steak _tartar_? Like the sauce? Why would I put that sauce on steak?”

“It’s a marinated semi-raw steak dish. It’s usually served as an appetizer. We can order it if you like.” Ushijima commented. “Although, I’m a personally a fan of their roasted garlic spread and if you’d care to try it, the foie gras.” Oikawa glanced up from the menu, a brow quirked.

“Fwa gra? Fluffy what?” He said, having some difficulty pronouncing it. “That...doesn’t make much sense what--”

“It’s seared goose liver.” Ushijima said as a server came over to take their drink orders. “Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I enjoy it -- yes, bottle of chardonnay, ah…” He looked over a list of bottles available and pressed his fingers to one. “Yes, that one.” The server looked to Oikawa who, as much as he wasn’t a wine person, he shook his head, tapping the glass. He promised he wouldn’t go overboard, and wine seemed like the best option.

Once the server left, Oikawa returned his gaze back to the menu. “I’m not sure how I feel eating goose liver. Or nearly raw steak for that matter. Is there anything a little less adventurous? My idea of an appetizer usually involves, well…” He looked up, faintly flushed. “Not getting one. I don’t usually go out.”

“Then we’ll get a small sampler. So you can try new things. You seem to be all about that lately.” Ushijima had himself a silent chuckle as the server came over with a bottle and two glasses. She popped the cork and performed a slight display at pouring each of the glasses before setting them out, and asking if they were ready to place their orders. “Just the starter for now, you’ve done sampler plates for me before, would that be possible again?” With a confirmation, the server left, allowing Ushijima to take a cherished sip of his wine before Oikawa turned the bottle left behind around to read the label.

“You can afford this?” he asked, taking a sip of the wine as well, allowing himself the moment to realize just how privileged he was to get to drink this.

“I do assist in running of one of the globes most profitable advertising companies.” Ushijima said softly with a smile as he rest his forearms upon the table, folding his hands together. “If you’d like, I can order for you, Oikawa-san. I’ve made my decision, and you seem to be a little overwhelmed with the options.”

“...That might be a good plan, I’m not really sure what most of this is. I don’t have any food allergies, but I don’t really like mushrooms or peppers.” He said, sliding back in his seat and closing the menu. He was still attempting to avoid looking directly at Ushijima, but now with menus closed, and Ushijima ordering for the both of them, Oikawa found he had no choice. “This is a date, isn’t it?”

“You seem to want it to be.” Ushijima mused, humored. “It’s really a shame, Oikawa Tooru, I had really hoped you would’ve stayed the other night. I had hoped to take you out last night instead, more as an apology for disrupting your evening if anything.”

“You didn’t disrupt it. I did choose to go home with you, didn’t I?” Oikawa corrected him, taking another sip of wine, silently wishing he could make it into something just a little stronger. “Listen, it’s in the past, so I don’t really think we should talk about it. I left because I panicked because I hadn’t been with a man before and I was embarrassed. End of story.”

“And yet you’re here on a date with one.” Ushijima observed, smiling pleasantly at Oikawa. “Your boss no less. It’s something out of a soap opera, really. If you’re so embarrassed by the situation, why did you come out here? You didn’t have to accept my invitation. You could have very easily turned me down with a ‘no thank you, I’m not actually interested. I had my chance to experiment and I’ve figured myself out.’ But here you are. Sitting across from me, and your cheeks have been glowing since I arrived. I think the story is rather far from the ending, don’t you agree?”

“I…” Oikawa held a hand to his face, almost subconsciously as if to cover up the redness of his cheeks. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” He grumbled a bit hesitantly taking another sip of wine. “After what you said earlier, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I figured the only way to stop thinking about you was to accept your offer. Get it out of my system. . .Or something.” his lips pursed into a pout as he set the glass back down on the table. As the crystal touched the tablecloth, Ushijima began laughing again. It wasn’t an obnoxious, boisterous laugh, but a pleasantly amused one as he reached across the table, lightly brushing a knuckle over the back of Oikawa’s hand before withdrawing it to rest his chin in his palm.

Ushijima stared at Oikawa with a glint in his earthy, sultry eyes. They studied Oikawa and the way his lips released from their pout to a slightly parted expression of surprise. Ushijima himself smiled slowly, thoughtful and aware of precisely what Oikawa had been suggesting. “You know what it sounds like to me?” Ushijima said, as Oikawas arms prickled to life, each hair on end with fascination biting at his every sense. “It sounds to me like you have quite the crush, and you don’t know how to handle it.”

“That’s not it at all!” Oikawa’s voice rose to louder than he had expected it to raise, his hands pressed to the tables, as if ready to get up and leave. Silently he cursed himself, wishing he hadn’t bothered coming out here but the look in Ushijima’s eyes remained. He was reading him, and even behind that analytical gaze, there was something that kept Oikawa from leaving. Something understanding. “It’s -- it’s. . .”

“It’s exactly right, isn’t it?” Ushijima said, sipping his wine as Oikawa settled himself back down to keep steady and to remind himself to sit through this. “Everyone has unexpected feelings for people, Oikawa-san. People wind up being surprised at who they fall for. So you have a crush on me, any idiot with a brain could likely see that. Coincidentally, you have a spontaneous bout of feelings for a man. A new experience. Don’t let it choke you up.” He took another sip, disliking that he was already halfway through his glass, opting to top it off. “When you came home with me, you told me that you were trying to learn some things about yourself, and perhaps, I could be the one to help. Well, I did help, as you can see. You’re currently sitting at dinner with me, realizing the depth of your potential romantic feelings for me.” He smiled topping off Oikawas glass a bit as well. “I think I did quite a good job. You weren’t sure where you stood with men, and here we are.”

“I was hoping it would prove me wrong.” Oikawa huffed, his arms momentarily crossing over his chest, only to release once he remembered the rather expensive bottle of wine sitting there for him to partake in. “I was hoping that sleeping with a man would shove all those thoughts I’d been having out of my head, but instead it made it worse.”

“So there you are, you’ve discovered you’re attracted to men.” Ushijima chuckled. “ _Et, voila. Vous etes ici avec moi._ ”

“I don’t speak French.”

“You’re here with me.” Ushijima said, only to trail off before he could continue as a small platter was delivered to the two of them. It wasn’t necessarily over the top, but it did have around ten or so different items, with two of each laid out of them. Each was small, practically bite sized, delivered with a few sauces meant to be tried with each sample. Ushijima thanked the host who proceeded to take their orders: rack of lamb with cranberry glaze and lemon risotto for Ushijima, and seared duck breast with a garlic-gruyere twice baked potato for Oikawa. With the servers departure. Two small plates were left behind so the both of them could select their samples to try on their own sides of the table.

“But I digress, Oikawa Tooru. I didn’t want to sit with you to discuss your inner turmoil -- that’s for you to figure out, not me. I wanted to sit with you so I could get to know you, that is if you’d care to share yourself with me.” Ushijima used his fork to scoop a mushroom cap, stuffed with some blend of protein and bell peppers on to his plate. “You don’t mind if I take both mushroom caps since you said you’re not a fan of them, or peppers, do you?” Oikawa shook his head, gesturing for him to take them as he lifted some slab of what looked like a mustard paste on a slice of bread to his own.

It took a lot of effort on his part not to say “ _I’ve already shared my entire body with you, what else is there to share?_ ”

He cut into the slice of bread, spreading out the paste so it was entire covered in a smooth, single coat. “Well, what do you want to know about me? I didn’t think there was much more to share after my little introduction this morning.” As Ushijima cut a mushroom cap in half and slid a piece into his mouth, Oikawa mimicked the gesture with his fingers, sliding the bread into his mouth. It was a warm, buttery taste and faintly earthy -- he couldn’t place what it was, but it practically melted in his mouth. “Oh my god, this is delicious, what is it?” Oikawa asked, suddenly embarrassed for speaking with his mouth full.

“That would be the foie gras.” Oikawa choked a bit, but he’d already swallowed, not realizing that he’d just eaten something that sounded absolutely horrid a few minutes prior. “But you liked it, didn’t you? There’s no sense denying that.” Ushijima smiled. “But if you’d rather not, I’d be glad to eat the rest of it --” Almost voraciously, and in a way to prove a point to Ushijima, Oikawa stuffed the other bit of the bread into his mouth, eating it hungrily.

“Don’t lecture me.” Oikawa grumbled as he found something that looked much more familiar. A spring roll of sorts that he scooped upon his plate, cutting it in half to find that instead of a variety of vegetables, it was filled with black beans, corn and a few other items within that gave it a more Mexican flare. Interesting, but nevertheless, Oikawa forked it pleasantly. “So you want to know things about me, well, what else is there to really add to my little spiel this morning. My name is Oikawa Tooru. I am twenty-five, I’ve spent the last seven years of my life partying my guts out, and now I’ve been forced to work like the rest of society by my best friend of the past twenty-two years. Nothing that exciting.”

“So you think.” Ushijima said as he took the other sampling of foie gras and skipped the bread, instead opting to eat his share as it was. “The novel idea you were telling me about, that was quite exciting. I think you should write it.”

Oikawa swallowed his next bite, using the moment between bites to look across the table at Ushijima who was eating away, rather pleased with himself. He couldn’t believe that he’d told Ushijima about his novel...He was only a few dozen pages into writing the first draft, but he was convinced he would get the chance to complete it if time did him any favors. “...I told you about my book?” He asked, lips parted and a brow raised in surprised. “I haven’t even told Hajime about it yet…”

“Well, I guess you thought I was the right person to share the idea with, because you were rather engaged. It’s a very Asimov-like concept, and I think it could go somewhere if you really work at it.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, not because he didn’t appreciate Ushijima’s compliment, but more because he disagreed with it. “If only,” Oikawa sighed as he decided he didn’t like the spring roll, and forked a friendly looking scallop wrapped in bacon on to his plate. “No one reads science fiction anymore. It’s a dead genre.” He didn’t bother cutting the scallop, popping it right in his mouth with a rather audible sigh of relief that he wasn’t being fooled by something on the tray this time.

“Hardly.” Ushijima said, taking note of Oikawa’s dislike of the spring roll, taking the uneaten piece for himself. “Movies involving space travel, robotics, extraterrestrial life, computers -- they’re always being produced. And don’t get me started on video games. The genre is hardly dead, just very old. I think if you were to dedicate the time to writing your novel it could really be something. Don’t you ever fantasize about it becoming a movie?” Silently, Oikawa made eye contact with Ushijima as he reached for the other scallop, receiving a nod in response as he gratefully shoved the bit of shellfish into his mouth with a sound of content. “Think about it.”

Upon swallowing Oikawa rested his fork on the table, there was still a wide variety of things to choose from, one of which was a very innocent looking cracker with what Oikawa knew to be bruschetta on it. “I suppose,” he said, moving the sample (along with the roasted clove of garlic he had been sort-of-promised). “But I’m not even sure that’s what I want to do with my life.”

“So write it for fun. What’s the worst that comes of it?” Ushijima asked, obtaining his portions. “You write a book. You can really make a name for yourself, even if only in pride, if you can confidently say you’ve written a book, published or not.”

It was something to think about.

The meal consisted of mindless chatter. Mostly questions from Ushijima for Oikawa. What did he do as a child? (He watched science channel, played sports, and realized he had a fanclub). What sports did he play? (He was decent at most but he played volleyball, to which Ushijima said ‘Really? Me too’). Where did he grow up? (Same city but in the suburbs). All very straightforward questions. It was after salad plates had been cleared and Oikawa was on his second bite of duck breast that he realized he had a number of questions for Ushijima as well. He hadn’t expected himself to like the taste of duck, but it was a richer, darker meat than chicken was and it nearly melted as Oikawa ate it.

All he knew about Ushijima so far was that he seemed to be incredibly intelligent. He had played volleyball. He had money. And he slept with men.

Yet, Oikawa was still sitting there, finding himself squirming just slightly in his seat as he watched Ushjima guide a bite of lamb meat past his lips. They closed, one lip protruding out just a tiny bit more than the other as he chewed, dabbing the tip of his fork in the cranberry glaze to lick off after he’d swallowed. A simple act of eating, and Oikawa had suddenly discovered himself a metaphorical mess.

“Let me ask you some questions.” Oikawa said as he cut into the baked potato, discovering the inside having a creamy looking butter sauce ( to which Ushijima commented with “It’s called beurre blanc. A white wine, tarragon and butter blend”). “You’re learning more about me, but I just got that you and I played the same sport. And slept together. I didn’t end up sleeping with a boring guy, did I?” His eyes narrowed as he scooped the potato into his mouth. “That’d be awful.”

Ushijima had himself something of a laugh at the statement, combing a hand loosely through his hair, appearing visibly embarrassed. “I like to think I’m very much not boring.” he said, humorously. “I might be into more classical things than you are, but I don’t think I’m boring.”

“Alright, well,” Oikawa said as he began cutting another piece of duck meat. “What do you mean by classical? You don’t get dressed up in nineteeth century European attire and go ballroom dancing do you?” Something about the way Oikawa phrased it brought forth another laugh from Ushijima who had set his box down, commenting idly about needing a take away box for it.

“I’ve often imagined going to a reenactment of that sort, but no. Not at all. If the option arises, one day maybe, but that’s not how I define ‘classical’.” He said as he waved over the server to ask for a box for both of them, just on the off chance that Oikawa needed one as well (he did). “My definition of classical, is generally a synonym for...refined? Mature? I enjoy orchestras or big band shows. I like the theater. But I don’t go often since I never have company. Movies are much more my style to attend alone. I prefer dramas and independent works. Does that make sense?”

“So enjoying comedy and rock concerts isn’t refined?” Oikawa asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, challenging Ushijima to explain himself, but instead, he found Ushijima’s face brightening and the formerly composed gentleman actually seeming flustered.

“Oh, oh no, that’s not what I meant. I was just, thinking, ah, how do I phrase this without it seeming arrogant…” He began to scrape the remaining two cuts of lamb into his box along with the risotto and a spread of string beans with it. “I see them more as, the sort of entertainment our parents generation would be interested in. I’m not really that preoccupied in younger-geared media, probably because I was raised to like what my parents enjoyed so I would grow up to their standards, but...Ah, sometimes things don’t go as planned.” It made sense, and Oikawa decided he wouldn’t be offended by Ushijima’s choice in words. But at his last words, he opened his mouth and began to say something. But before he had the chance, Ushijima continued speaking. “I suppose that’s why I was at the bar the other night. I don’t usually go to one just to have a drink. I actually was there to meet with a blind date, but, hahaha. . .” He turned his gaze away as he slid the few remaining samples from the appetizer into the box. “As you can see now, I was stood up.”

“And so I was a replacement?”

“Hardly.” Ushijima said as he decided to box up Oikawa’s food as well. “You were a funny coincidence.”

“Were you meeting a guy or a girl there?” Oikawa asked as he lifted the remains of potato into the box. “Or is that not my business?”

“Frankly, I don’t think their gender was my business either.” Ushijima chuckled to himself. “They wouldn’t tell me online--”

This caused Oikawa to stop mid gesture, dropping the potato to make eye contact with Ushijima, positively dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me?” He asked as he pulled back, his back pressing into the leather upholstery of the booth again. “You’re telling me that you, this gorgeous, wealthy, gay man, has --”

“Bisexual.”

“Right, bisexual, whatever, has to use online dating in order to meet someone?” Oikawa’s shoulders sank, momentarily wondering what he had gotten himself into. “...How? What is so weird about you that you have to use the internet to meet someone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with meeting people online. People do it all the time, and I’ve had some very successful dates with people I’ve met online.” Ushijima said as he finished boxing up Oikawa’s meal, keeping it in the same sort of presentation that it had been in the box.  “If there’s anything wrong with me, it’s probably the fact I turn people down too easily. I’m a businessman, so I know when I’m being scammed in a contract.”

“So,” Oikawa began, rolling his eyes somewhat. “What about me? Am I scamming you?”

“I can’t tell yet,” Ushijima said with a slight hum. “We haven’t written one yet.” He closed the lid of the box, paging over the server to bring them the check. “I was thinking we’d stop somewhere for dessert if you don’t mind, there’s a little place near here that’s known for their tiramisu, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Oikawa grumbled, not sure what to make of this entire exchange. Ushijima was strange. He did online dating, but he was incredibly desirable, yet he turned most people down. He was into _classical_ things, and Oikawa on the other hand preferred living big, living loud. He couldn’t figure out how Ushijima hadn’t rejected him at this point, and he was anticipating it. But the longer Oikawa sat there with Ushijima, the more he noticed the mans foot gently brushing against his calf. The more he noticed the shimmer in Ushijima’s eyes. The glow on his face.

Oikawa wasn’t the only one smitten.

“Don’t sound so glum, I’m treating, aren’t I?” Ushijima found himself laughing as he pulled a wallet from inside his coat, retrieving a credit card from inside that he slipped into the book that had been delivered with the tab. “Don’t worry about my contract analogy, Oikawa-san. It’s just a metaphor. You’re a writer aren’t you? You know how they work.”

“So what is it that’s going on here?” Oikawa asked, opting to be blunt. Honesty was a classical tactic, wasn’t it?

“Certainly not a contract.” Ushijima said as he handed the book off. “I like to think of it more as...Being paid under the table.” Oikawa felt Ushijima’s foot brush against his leg once again. “No one has to know about it. Only us.”

 

 


	4. Cover Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR! This is going to be my last update of anything for 2015, I do believe!  
> As always, chapter is unbeta'd. I had someone offer to beta for me on Tumblr, but I didn't hear back from them :( Sad  
> But anyways. I'm thrilled people are still on board with this one.
> 
> Got some smutty bits this chapter, so do me a favor kiddos: remember to practice safe sex, and if you're going to do kinky stuff always have a safe word for Slow, Stop and Continue. :D

The place that offered the tiramisu that Oikawa had been promised wasn’t in fact a cafe, but instead was Ushijima’s very own apartment. Feeling cheated, Oikawa almost instantly turned on his heel to leave, but with the sight of Ushijima approaching his fridge and retrieving an actual pan of tiramisu, he opted to stay. With his lips pursed, Oikawa’s arms folded across his chest, frowning faintly as he saw Ushijima plating some of the dessert on separate plates for them both, deciding it better be some damn good tiramisu.

“Did you make that?” he asked as he glanced toward his boss working on the desserts presentation.

Ushijima smiled as he opened a drawer, placing a small dessert fork on the two plates, making brief eye contact with Oikawa. “I did,” he said. “I’m quite fond of making sweets, but I rarely have anyone over to try them, so you’ll be the first to try my new tiramisu recipe.”

“Phrasing it like that makes me concerned.” Oikawa grimaced as Ushijima chuckled, setting the plates out at a simply dressed table, lacking any sort of centerpiece. 

It was the second time Oikawa had been in Ushijima’s apartment in the past week, and this time he was actually able to get a good look at its furnishings. After all, the last time the only thing he was preoccupied with was the way Ushijima’s hands had felt him up through his pants. The entire apartment was seemingly dark -- dark wood and burgundy and leather furniture decorated the rather stylish apartment. Nothing seemed to contrast with the colors in a glaring way either, aside for a couple of cream throw pillows and a few lampshades, so ultimately they were friendly accents to the very mature decor. Quite the opposite from Oikawa’s way of living.

“You keep your apartment so clean,” he added under his breath. “How?”

“I work more than I’m at home.” Ushijima said coolly as he pulled out a chair for Oikawa to sit down. “So I rarely have the time to make a mess of anything. I’m guessing you’re a little bit messy then, hm?” Oikawa sat down, feeling as his weight was adjusted from Ushijima pushing the chair in.

“Something like that.” He said, laughing softly as he admired the dessert before him. “I won’t like, it’s exactly like that. I’m kind of a slob.”

“Home a lot by yourself?” Ushijima asked as he sat down himself. “Wouldn’t surprise me, you did say this was your first real job on your resume. You’ll probably find a day to clean up everything sometime and with work -- you likely won’t have to do a major cleaning again for a while.”

“Busy job then?” Oikawa asked as he picked up his fork, seeming to be waiting for the cue from Ushijima to start eating. “Like, I mean, am I going to be working a lot? Not that I mind or anything, I was in an advanced class in high school, but I want to know what I’m going to be getting into.”

“It will keep you busy,” Ushijima said pleasantly as he speared some of the dessert into his mouth with a friendly hum. “That’s where I started off when my father first employed me in his branch. Technical writing isn’t hard work but there can be a lot of it. Particularly when you’re just starting out. So if you need any assistance, I’m just a door away should you need my help. Among other things.”

A laugh spilled from Oikawa as he finally allowed himself to shovel a mouthful of tiramisu into his mouth,  _ very _ pleased by the texture of the confectionery. “Among other things? You say that as if I have plans to sleep with you again.”

“You don’t? Hm, but you came back to my place again. Surely you didn’t just come for dessert.” Ushijima said, feigning shock as he slipped the fork from his mouth again. “You didn’t just  _ come _ at first either -- oh, that was a clever one.” Ushijima seemed to have found himself enjoying his little play on words, Oikawa however found himself flustered again for the nth time that evening, opting to preoccupy himself with another mouthful instead of retorting. “I digress, Oikawa-san. I am next door for you in the event you need my advice or input on something you’re working on. And should you not feel comfortable discussing it with me, you’ll have two willing and able co-workers in the same hallway.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Oikawa’s tone was faintly humorous, noticing that Ushijima was actually quite the talkative sort. Maybe he was nervous. The slight tugs at his collar every few bites seemed to suggest so, so Oikawa made a point not to bring it up. If he was truly flustered, the way he was covering it up was almost charming.

Mid-bite, Oikawa stopped himself. He’d been staring, his chin resting in his hand, studying Ushijima between bites of the Italian dessert. And Ushijima seemed to have noticed. That was why he’d begun fidgeting. Sitting upright, Oikawa pulled his gaze free, noting the way Ushijima seemed to instantly relax.

“Yes, as I was saying --”

“You get nervous when people stare at you.” Oikawa commented. “Not like with your speeches and stuff, but right now. You’re nervous.” He smirked as he slid the fork into his mouth, lips curling against the metal as he pried it free. Ushijima had spent much of the evening keeping Oikawa on edge, and now it was his turn as he twirled the fork within his fingers. “It’s almost cute, almost -- if you weren’t trying to sleep with me already you’d probably be considering it right now. But then again --” He stared up toward the ceiling, focusing on the borderline gothic style detailing on the overhead light. “Getting embarrassed like that? It’s something that suits more high schoolers and virgins, and you’re neither, so.” He set the fork down on his plate, his smile stretched thinly over his face. “What’s the deal, Ushijima-san, do I make you nervous?”

A soft, confident “hmph” was Oikawa’s response from Ushijima as he forked another bite into his mouth, leaning forward against the table, hands folding. “I wouldn’t necessarily say nervous, but I am quite preoccupied in what I’d like to do with you later, should you be willing.” Ushijima glanced upwards, eyes briefly meeting Oikawa’s, causing the new hire to falter just slightly, quickly losing the composure and the gaul he’d had to confront Ushijima seconds before. “Something tells me you’ll sound much more desperate for attention, given that you’re sober this time around. I’d like to hear that, you know. That desperation in your voice, fighting what society tells you is acceptable while I, another  _ man _ has my lips around --”

“Th-that’s plenty, thank you!” Oikawa whined loudly, already plagued by the fantasy of what Ushijima had decided to describe. He didn’t take Ushijima to be the one for casual, suggestive dirty talk but here he was, watching as Ushijima casually and quietly continued to enjoy his dessert, while Oikawa questioned what was going on between his legs. He wasn’t the sort to typically enjoy the sort of word play that was being carefully crafted for him, but he decided it had something to do with the warmth of Ushijima’s voice as each phrase rolled off his tongue.

“You certainly aren’t confirming or denying, so I guess I’ll have to find out for myself, won’t I?” Ushijima hummed raising an eyebrow as he guided the last bite of his dessert to his mouth, savoring the last bit of flavor before standing up make his way toward Oikawa. “Your face is flushed and you keep squirming in your seat -- from the looks of it, I have your attention.”

“You had my attention when you cornered me in your office.” Oikawa grumbled, avoiding looking at Ushijima as he too finished his tiramisu, only allowing his eyes to dart up briefly.

“If I have your permission, I’d like to take you to my bedroom.” Ushijima spoke softly, his hand brushing back a loose curl of Oikawa’s hair to tuck it behind his ear, knuckle brushing delicately against his jawline.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Oikawa snorted, a laugh concealed under his breath.

“Hm?” Ushijima sounded faintly surprised, his hand withdrawing (much to Oikawa’s denied dismay). “Of course you do. If you don’t want to, I’d be glad to take you home. If you’re not interested, we can say goodbye for the night --”

“...I’m interested.” Oikawa uttered softly, raising his hand to guide Ushijima’s back to his face.

He’d be lying if he hadn’t been thinking about getting in bed with Ushijima all night. Somewhere during his second mouthful of foie gras, and his first bite of duck breast, Oikawa had realized he’d called Ushijima with the sole purpose of getting in bed with him later that night. It had stopped being a one-night-stand hours ago. He’d been fantasizing about what it might feel like to press his chest against Ushijima again, while he loomed over him as he let Oikawa fall into bed.

Oikawa did not know what this meant about himself. Sure, Ushijima had given him a couple of ideas, but only Oikawa could figure himself out.

Ushijima’s fingers brushed along his cheek again, and Oikawa stood upright before him, relaxing rather visibly. They both had the same goals in mind for this evening, and it was just a matter of Oikawa summoning the nerve to admit it. As Ushijima appeared to withdraw his hand again, Oikawa’s head tilted, resting in the cup of his palm, taking a moment to appreciate the curve cupping his cheek. He wore a smile only briefly before he generously offered his hand to the man. “Take me away, sir.” He said softly, eyeing him over, silently begging to be brought into the bedroom already.

The room grew quiet as Oikawa stood before Ushijima feeling as his hand brushed over his cheek and jawline, toward his neck, fingers brushing over the collar of his shirt. Oikawa cracked an eye open to watch as Ushijima’s eyes slowly scanned over him. He was studious but meticulous with how he only just brushed upon his skin. He sucked in a breath, a soft gasp held within his chest as Ushijima’s eyes darted toward Oikawa’s face to determine whether it was a sound of compliance. A faint twitch of the head signaled for the man to continue going. Oikawa let the air escape him, following as Ushijima’s hand rest upon the knot that he had so carefully tied a few hours earlier. His finger looped beneath the first fold of fabric, tugging slowly to loosen it, perhaps just as smoothly as he had slid it on.  

With the tie unknotted, Ushijima’s fingers pressed against Oikawa’s throat. Not quite firm, but not too lightly. Enough that Oikawa could feel the thread behind the top button of his shirt against the flesh between his collarbones. It distracted him, just momentarily as Ushijima leaned in. Bracing himself, Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, only to find the button being slipped from its closure, and Ushijima’s lips edging toward his ear.

“Now you,” he uttered softly, lowering his other hand to Oikawa’s and guiding it to his own tie. “I don’t mind if your fingers fumble, the more you fumble, the more endearing you become to me.”

Ushijima did not pull away, instead, his hands dropped, leaving Oikawa’s to brush upon the satin of his tie. In his own way, it seemed as if Ushijima was almost training him on how to undress a man other than himself. Mimicking Ushijima for what it was worth, Oikawa’s finger tucked beneath the outermost loop of the tie, beginning to unfold it from its many folds. Ushijima’s own knot had been more intricate than his own (or perhaps it only felt that way). A pleasant, rather impressed chuckle entered Oikawa’s ear as he managed to unhitch the tie from its knots while Ushijima pulled back, amused with Oikawa’s efforts.

“There’s a first time for everything.” Ushijima mused airily as he began to slide the tie from beneath the collar.

And it clicked in Oikawa’s head that was was a now or never moment. He could show Ushijima that he meant business and he wanted the upper hand here. He’d seen it in movies, and he’d had many girls do it to him. All he had to do was snatch that tie and yank Ushijima toward him, capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss -- it worked, didn’t it?

Oikawa’s hands clutched the loose hanging strips of Ushijima’s tie, tugging them as fiercely as he possibly could in an attempt to pull the man closer. But a single tug didn’t suffice. Instead Ushijima just stumbled forward, leaning at a strange angle, nearly bumping his head upon Oikawa’s. His lips pulled into a smile as his soulful eyes closed shut. Laughter escaped him rather quickly, and his entire face glowed along with him.

“Trying to be spontaneous?” He asked, prying Oikawa’s hands from the tie, much to the writers dismay (and embarrassment). “That was cute,” he purred, arms extending to rest upon Oikawa’s waist, guiding him in closer. “You’ll get the hang of it, and next time maybe you won’t be as clumsy.”

“Stop it.” Oikawa practically snarled from behind his teeth, prying his eyes away from Ushijima’s big, dumb, stupid, gorgeous smile. “Don’t make fun of --”

A chance to protest was not given as Oikawa was suddenly reminded of the lush presence of Ushijima’s lips as he brought the two of them together. His hands ran up along Oikawa’s back to the back of his head. He didn’t mind. Oikawa didn’t mind or care, or give a damn whatsoever that Ushijima’s body was pressed against him, nor did he care that he was being guided backwards in haphazard, blind steps in the direction of his boss’s bedroom. Oikawa’s hands clumsily wrapped around the fabric of Ushijima’s tie, for balance, as he repeated to himself silently that  _ everything was fine _ .   
  
It was fine as Ushijima’s dexterous fingers unhooked each button from his shirt. And it was equally as fine when he felt the garment sliding off his shoulders with the momentary break in the kiss, leaving him in just an undershirt while Ushijima’s lips returned to being preoccupied with prying Oikawa’s apart. It was fine. It was fine. It was absolutely fine. It was absolutely fine, that as Ushijima’s hands vanished momentarily to remove his belt from around his hips before giving Oikawa the faintest of shoves, causing him to stumbled on to the mattress. And it was fine when Oikawa realized how badly he wanted to  _ fuck this man _ .

He was partially propped on his elbows as Oikawa gazed up at Ushijima, watching as he finally freed the tie from around his throat. Each button became undone as he shrugged the top from his body and draped it across the nightstand. Oikawa examined him, watching as his arms -- far more defined than he had recalled -- flexed slowly with his movements. He wore no undershirt, instead, stood with his chest bare as he loomed overhead. A quirk of Oikawa’s lip upon sliding back on the somewhat familiar mattress invited him in closer. Ushijima lowered to the bed, nearly crawling atop Oikawa, his leg sliding between his employees. His hand slid across Oikawa’s bare stomach, resting upon his chest as he offered him the faintest of tweaks to the nipple that had since grown hard from being exposed.

“Say it,” Ushijima practically growled as his lips closed around the side of Oikawa’s neck, teeth grazing feverishly while he delivered a rough grind of his hips to the recipient. “Say you want me in that lyrical voice of yours.” Oikawa lay there, partly flustered, partly glowing and partly in awe that he was so comfortable with going through with this. He was exploring himself and his interests, so there was no harm done. He studied Ushijima as his hands brushed over his body, causing him to shiver and nearly laugh from the chill that struck him at first before he felt flooded with warmth. He hardly knew Ushijima, but he already seemed so cautious and aware of what made Oikawa feel the best. Another brush of lips upon his skin sent Oikawa into the slightest of arches into Ushijima’s body, deciding he was quite content and quite happy with what was transpiring.

And in that lyrical voice of his, Oikawa uttered out the smoothest “I want you.” that Ushijima had ever heard.

With not even so much as a verbal confirmation from Ushijima that he had heard Oikawa’s desires, he rest his hand upon Oikawa’s hip, starting to yank at his belt to free it from the cleanly pressed dress slacks. His head craned to the side as Ushijima’s teeth rather viciously clamped down along the curves of his throat. Oikawa shuddered, slipping his arms around Ushijima’s neck to keep him firmly placed against him.

His eyes closed, relaxing as Ushijima’s weight fell upon him, their chests touching comfortably and the leg resting between his rubbed into his groin. Oikawa’s fingers lazily wove through Ushijima’s hair as he took a moment to process the positively outstanding sensation of being ravished for once, instead of being the ravisher. He always was so forward with girls, commonly finding enjoyable of making them gasp pleasantly and reach for the headboard. But it was Oikawa who was craning his neck back, releasing soft sighs into Ushijima’s ear between each nibble upon his neck.

He wanted this man. He wanted this man to reignite that spark that had come to life the other night. He wanted Ushijima to make him sink into the mattress. He wanted the world to melt around him once more while Ushijima was the only thing he could see or even comprehend. Oikawa’s hands dropped to his belt, fumbling with it so he could assist his new employer in undressing him. Ushijima’s teeth pried free from his neck as his body wriggled away, grinning faintly as he tugged a condom from within the back pocket of his trousers to set near Oikawa’s head with a soft, “We’re going to need it.”

Ushijima vanished momentarily, slipping off the bed as he departed the bedroom into a room off to the side. The bathroom most likely as Oikawa heard the hum of a fan as a light flicked. With the moment of freedom from his presence, Oikawa began to wriggle on the bed, shoving down his pants so he was left in the boxer shorts he’d chosen deliberately for this evening. They clung to his skin just a bit more than some of his other pairs, but due to their satin-like touch, it was hardly uncomfortable. Ushijima returned momentarily, having opened his trousers, letting them hang loose at his sides, a small squeezable tube within his hands. He was clearly prepared as he crawled atop Oikawa again, a pleased smirk upon his lips as he’d seen how the young man had made things easier for him.

“Do me a favor,” Ushijima purred as he returned to rubbing his eager hands all over Oikawa’s body. “Since you’re not quite accustomed to sleeping with men yet,” his words were faintly muffled from the sound of his mouth against Oikawa’s stomach as he trailed down to the elastic of his underwear. “Say, ‘fake’ if you need me to slow down, ‘flash’ if I need to stop.” Ushijima paused, glancing up to Oikawa so their eyes met, his teeth grazing at the elastic. He released the elastic, giving Oikawa a faint glance at the trail of hair beneath. “And say ‘fly’ if you want me to keep going after I’ve stopped.”

“Fake, flash, fly --” Oikawa repeated softly as he nodded, noting that Ushijima hadn’t continued. “Go on, as you were --” Yet, he smiled, realizing precisely what Ushijima expected of him. He reached out, brushing his fingers against Ushijima’s cheek, a soft laugh making its way past his lips. “ _ Fly. _ ”

  
  


His body ached as he lay in bed next to Ushijima who had offered Oikawa a cigarette in anticipation for the younger male to need a smoke post sex. With a shake of his head, Ushijima tossed the pack upon the nightstand, clearly not being a smoker himself. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, anyways,” he hummed as he watched Oikawa sink into the blankets. He could feel the muscles beneath his skin throbbing for relaxation, while simultaneously begging for a little more action all the same. His arms raised over his head in a stretch, only to find himself becoming cozily tucked under Ushijima’s arm as he brought their lips together in a lazy, noncommittal embrace.

He liked how Ushijima used his tongue. His was a thicker, wider tongue than he was accustomed to (he supposed girls tongues were naturally smaller and slimmer, but what did he know). When Ushijima’s tongue slithered into his mouth, slickly glossing over Oikawa’s own, he became nearly overwhelmed with the need to complete succumb and allow Ushijima to smother him. It was really quite an exciting sensation that left him light headed once Ushijima pulled away.

His eyes were half lidded and his breath was caught in his chest, heaviness upon him as he eagerly desired to go to sleep. “I...I’m really tired now,” he said, beginning to laugh, glancing at the clock. It was half past eleven and Oikawa anticipated that Iwaizumi was likely expecting him now. After coming, Oikawa had comfortably slipped under the thick, inviting blankets of Ushijima’s bed, laying there until some energy returned. He couldn’t move with some semblance of ache in his body, and Ushijima appeared to be all too understanding.

“If you’d like you can spend the night. Provided you don’t leave before dawn again.” Ushijima said, a smile on his face revealing he was still a bit hurt by Oikawa’s actions. Groaning as he sank into the bed, Oikawa pressed his hands into his face, voice concealed partly by his palms.

“I told my roommates I’d be home.” he whined. “But I can’t bring myself to move!”

Ushijima’s laughter filled the room as he reached toward a clock upon the nightstand. “How about you spend the night. I’ll drop you off before work so you can change, if that’s not too much trouble for you.” His hand combed through Oikawa’s hair, humored by the slight spring his cowlicks bounced back into as his fingers withdrew. “You seem very tired and moving you now would be quite terrible.”

“Why’s that?” Oikawa asked, squirming around in bed to get himself comfortable as Ushijima set an alarm for the morning. He stared sleepily up at Ushijima who returned the clock to the nightstand before slipping down into the bedding next to him.

“Because I’d like to actually wake to see your face.” He purred, closing the space between them to nuzzle against Oikawa’s cheek. “I wasn’t graced with it on Sunday, so perhaps I’ll be lucky.” Oikawa laughed quietly as the light went out, feeling as Ushijima slid closer to him beneath the covers, comfortably being welcomed into his arms as if he were a pillow.

As Oikawa lay there, it dawned on him as the warmth flooded to his face and nowhere else that this little infatuation may very well have been a damn crush. He’d never found himself considering fitting as a piece against another man, and despite his insistent, internal aversion to male anatomy, Oikawa was quite content with having another man’s naked body snuggled up against him. Ushijima was just slightly taller than him, giving Oikawa the opportunity to nestle his head against Ushijima’s neck, ear focused in on the soft thrum of his hearbeat.

He supposed he could get very used to this.

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t come back last night” Iwaizumi said as he handed Oikawa his morning coffee, noting the small bags beneath his eyes. A brow was quirked upon his face, eyes narrowed as he began his partially wordless questioning of his roommate.  “Too drunk to get home or what??”

He groaned a bit, rubbing at his eyes as he began to curl his lips around the edge of the cup. Iwaizumi was a saint, being the sort to have coffee ready even before Oikawa woke up. “Nah, I stopped after two, alright?” he grumbled as he jerked back, the coffee too hot to drink right away. “Was going to take the train but it stopped running by the time we go there so one of my coworkers let me spend the night. Dropped me off this morning.”

Something in how Oikawa had jerked had flashed the skin of his neck to Iwaizumi, who proceeded to utter a “ _ Holy shit _ ,” before stepping in to examine it. “Jesus, is that from the other night? That guy got a bigger bite of you than I thought. Or -- shit,” Iwaizumi grasped Oikawa by the chin and turned his face to the side to examine it, nearly scoffing. “You didn’t fuck your coworker, did you? Jesus Tooru.”

He swatted at Iwaizumi’s hand, snorting. “Of course not.” Not the coworker Iwaizumi was thinking of, at least. Oikawa pressed a finger to his neck, wincing slightly as he found himself reminded of the adoring, gnashing bites that Ushijima had given him the night before. It was tender to the touch, so his hand withdrew quickly. Iwaizumi either had no idea that it was a new addition to the fading marks around his collar bones, or he already suspected something and was going to let him get away with it for the time being..

“O-Oh,” Oikawa uttered, flushing deeply as he combed a hand through his hair, still wet from his hasty morning shower at Ushijima’s place (which had resulted in a bit of foreplay, much to his delight). “Yeah, I guess he did. I didn’t even notice it, I guess.”

“Christ, put some concealer on that or something. What’ll your boss think? Especially if he knows you were out with coworkers last night. You’ll get your dumb ass fired.”

Oikawa knew damn well what his boss would think, he was the cause of it after all. “I’ll be at my desk all day, I think it’ll be alright. If anyone sees it, I can just say it’s an allergic reaction or something, right?”

“No one gets hickeys from allergies, dumbass.” Iwaizumi said, pulling milk from the fridge to dribble into Oikawa’s milk to cut the temperature down. “Don’t get up early unless you have to, you’re twice as stupid in the morning. Hurry up and drink that or you’ll miss the train.”

“Iwa-chan, stop trying to be my mom.” Oikawa mumbled against his cup. “It didn’t work in high school and it won’t work now. What do you think I am, Oedipus?” He took a long gulp from the cup and handed it to Iwaizumi before turning to the door, another hickey flashing as he adjusted his collar, pouting.

“That was a horrible analogy and you know it.”

What Oikawa would not hear as he left the apartment to make his way down to the street was the voice of Kageyama saying: “You do know he’s full of shit, right?”

Followed by Iwaizumi saying “I’ve heard less shit from a toilet.”


End file.
